


Antebellum Innocence

by saltedpotato



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - 1920s, FMA Big Bang 2017, M/M, Mild Ableism, One Night Stands, mafia, nonbinary Breda, nonbinary Envy, period-typical xenophobia, though downgraded, trans Havoc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-01-10 13:08:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12299766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltedpotato/pseuds/saltedpotato
Summary: Edward Elric had his whole life planned out in front of him.1) Move to Central City, Amestris2) Attend CCU, one of the greatest schools of the sciences in the world3) Graduate, discover something mind blowing, and make his dad eat his damned words.Nowhere on that list was "sleep with a mafia boss" but here he was, wasn't he?





	1. At the Foot of the House of Cards

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, I'm very excited to post my very first Big Bang fic! 
> 
> A couple notes before we begin; big thanks to the very lovely [amusingmurff](https://in-a-garden-astonished.tumblr.com/) for betaing this for me, you the man. Any text in all italics (which will mostly be between Ed and Al) is in a different language, and Amestris is very, very 1920s-America-coded, and Xerxes is Greek-coded. 
> 
> That's pretty much it, I really hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Edward burst through the doors of the immigration building, angrily jerking his jacket back onto his shoulders, and muttering curses under his breath. He paid no mind to Alphonse, who trailed soft apologies to the grumpy policemen in thickly accented Amestrian behind them. Same habits, different language, different country. 

_ “You didn’t have to be so aggressive, brother,”  _ the younger brother admonished as he jogged to catch up with the older, angrier Elric. It wasn’t as easy as it sounded, dragging a large trunk behind him, but it was only a few more blocks before he could unpack the damned thing. Well, hopefully it would only be a few more blocks... 

_ “The strip search was unnecessary and you know it, Al. What, do they think I’m fucking... hiding a gun up my ass?”  _ He snapped. He looked down at the address scribbled on a worn piece of paper and squinted at his shitty chicken scratch. He was hot, the caravan ride had been  _ incredibly  _ long and loud, the screening to gain access to the country embarrassing and drawn out, and he just wanted somewhere to lie down. A drink would not be unwelcome either. And Christ, a  _ bath. _

A hand wrapped around his elbow stopping him in his tracks. 

_ “Brother, please, just look on the bright side _ _ — we made it! We’re in Amestris!”  _ Al said, gesturing around him with his typical brighter-than-the-sun smile on his face. Even sweaty and smelly from being puked on by a pregnant Italian lady on the wagon, he was still a damned beacon of kindness and positivity. Not for the first time in his life, Ed was baffled that they were related. 

Ed took a deep breath, forced the tension from his shoulders and looked up at the overcast sky. It was dreary and humid for August, but it wasn’t like they had any prior experience with Amestrian weather patterns. Al was right, of course. He was always right, but the times when Ed would actually admit it were few and far between. 

_ “Yeah. We made it.”  _

Ed clenched his small shoulder bag closer, a sliver a paranoia dripping down his spine. They didn’t really have time to dawdle in a crowd of their fellow immigrants; they had apartment buildings to locate (somehow), colleges to enroll in, and jobs to hunt for. Busy, busy. 

The two brothers stuck close together as they made their way through the streets of Central City, which seemed like an endless maze of pavement and peddlers after the linear road of their small hometown. After a bit of confused bumbling, a few gruff strangers pointed them in the direction of the address on Ed’s paper and they trudged along, sweat sticking to their foreheads despite the day’s cool temperatures. Ed’s bum leg was stiffer than shit and it  _ ached,  _ but the thought of being able to sit down drove him to limp on. 

The neighborhood the directions lead them into stank of coal smoke, piss, and sweaty bodies, and the difference between here and their sleepy little hometown in Xerxes was stark and dizzying. Already his heart ached for the wide blue skies and whispering grass fields of Resembool, but in a distant, nostalgic way; the way you thought about a place that didn’t have anything left to offer.

There wasn’t a book in their tiny library that he hadn’t devoured, not a nook or cranny that he hadn’t explored, not a teacher left in their school to learn from, and not an elder he could nag for old stories. Resembool had raised him, nurtured him, molded him as much as it could and now it was time for him to move on. Onto something bigger, better, more worthy of his and Alphonse’s incredible minds _ —  _ or so their mother would say. He couldn’t spend his life sheering sheep and picking olives, he’d go mad. 

_ “Edward, we’re here.”  _

Ed snapped back into himself and blinked, suddenly taking in the hulking apartment building that loomed over them. It was an ugly thing, red and white brickwork scorched black from coal dust and squished between two equally ugly buildings on either side. A man sat on the stone banisters that lined the stairs that lead to the entrance. Ed glanced over at Al, who was wearing a mild grimace, no doubt mirrored on Ed’s own countenance. Ed gave him a playful punch. 

_ “Well, hopefully it’s not haunted, eh brother?”  _ Ed teased, hitching his bag up on his shoulder and starting up the steps. Alphonse sputtered and tried to swipe at him. 

_ “Shut up! I haven’t been afraid of ghosts since I was nine!”  _ He retorted. The man sitting on the banister lept to his feet as they approached, definitely over-eager and a little bit mousey. Oh boy...  Edward swallowed uncomfortably, stringing together the proper Amestrian phrases in his head as he approached. 

“Hello, we’re, um... looking for the _ — _ ” Edward suddenly blanked. He realized he didn’t know the Amestrian word for landlord,  _ fuck.  _

“The owner,” Alphonse supplied for him. 

“Yes,” Edward said. The man suddenly grinned at them and pushed himself off the banister. 

“You must be the Elrics. You do realize you’re an hour late, right?” He said. Edward blinked and then whipped out his pocket watch, staring down at the hands. No, he was perfectly _ — _

Ed flushed as he realized he must have rewound his watch wrong upon arriving in Central City. 

“Sorry, my watch must be wrong. We’ve only just arrived from—”

The man waved his hand dismissively and then stuck it out to be shaken. Edward shoved the watch back in his pocket and took the hand, still prickly with embarrassment. The man’s hand was sweaty and his mustache was thin and hideous, a good fit for the building he apparently owned. 

“Don’t worry about it. Let’s not make a habit of tardiness though, shall we?” He said with a grin that made Edward’s skin crawl. 

“Of course not.”

“Good. You two can call me Mr. Yoki. Please, come inside, I’ll show you your apartment,” he said, digging around for a set of keys and unlocking the front door. Edward and Alphonse exchanged a look, almost telepathic in their mutual discomfort.

Oh well. It’s not like they had landlords lining up to take in a stay pair of Xerxian immigrants. The Elrics were just lucky their old teacher had a contact in Amestris from when she had gone travelling. 

Ed sighed and yanked his suitcase forward over the doorstep. The wood creaked as they made their way up two flights of stairs, and there was the low thrum of shitty plumbing making the walls buzz. If Yoki noticed Ed’s awkward, limping gait, he didn’t mention it. As they made their way up, Yoki continued to chatter. 

“No pets are allowed in this building  _ — _ I’m allergic you see— and I  _ will  _ evict you after three loud noise complaints. The heating is spotty sometimes, nothing to be done about that, and there is a fifty cent charge for every day late the rent is paid, and you'll be evicted if you exceed two months without paying. Oh, while we’re on that topic, rent is eight dollars a month, utilities included. Since you’re just moving in, I need a security deposit of five dollars. Any other questions?” Yoki stopped suddenly in front of a door with the number 305 stamped onto it.

Ed looked over at Alphonse, who looked completely and utterly lost. Ed could only claim to be mildly better off. 

“Uh... when is rent due?” He asked. 

“First of every month.” 

“So you need... thirteen dollars right now?” 

“Yes.” 

Edward wrinkled his nose and unclipped his shoulder bag, reaching in and pulling out a wad of banknotes. Seven years of his life was buried in this bag, and he was probably about to spend it within the week. The thought made his stomach churn, but that was a new reality he’d have to get used to. Money made the world go round, particularly  _ this  _ world of smokestacks and automobiles. 

Thirteen dollars was carefully counted out and Yoki eagerly snatched up the cash. He crammed the money into his pocket and then captured Ed’s hand in a crushing grip. Ed felt a set of keys being pressed into his palm.

“Pleasure doing business, you two. Enjoy your new home.”

The balding man skittered away and the brothers watched him go. 

_ “He’s weird,”  _ Alphonse mumbled.  __

_ “I hope we don’t have to see him much.” _

_ “Agreed.”  _

Ed unlocked the door and bumped it open with his hip. 

As far as living quarters went... it could be worse. An empty living room greeted them, dimly lit by the afternoon sun streaming through windows on the opposite wall. A great black beast of a stove and some cupboards lurked in the corner, and whoever had been here last was kind enough to leave a faded, threadbare rug in the middle of the room. On the right side, two doors branched off, one to a wash room and the other to a tiny bedroom. Other than a weird stain on the ceiling and a floor plank that creaked like a bitch, it looked clean and warm and the sink in the bathroom ran clear after only a couple seconds of mucky brown water. 

Ed let his suitcase collapse onto the floor and he immediately mimicked it, dropping onto his back in the middle of the dusty rug. His leg throbbed irritably at him, but he couldn’t give less of a fuck. He heard Al laugh to himself and soon he too was lying on his back in the middle of their apartment. 

There was a long moment of peaceful quiet. 

_ “...I miss home, brother.”  _

Ed opened his eyes and stared at the vaguely feline-shaped stain in the ceiling. 

_ “Me too. We just gotta give it some time, it’ll start feeling like home in no time,”  _ he said. He reached over and scrubbed his fingers through his little brother’s hair, much to Al’s displeasure. 

_ “Knock it off. It might start feeling like home sooner if we get some furniture,”  _ Alphonse said with a huff of laughter. 

_ “Good point, brother of mine. Let’s go shopping!”   _

Three hours, a hundred dollars, and a jerky moving truck later, Ed and Al were struggling to haul a dresser, a bed, a set of dinnerware, a bookshelf and a couch up two flights of stairs and into their apartment. The bed and bookshelf didn’t prove to be too difficult, but the dresser and the couch were gonna be nightmares. Especially considering Ed had a leg made of wood and plastic. 

_ “Wait, Al, lift that end a little higher— ow, FUCK.”  _ Ed spat curses as his elbow knocked into the door frame as they maneuvered the dresser into the lobby of the apartment building. He set down the dresser and wiped an arm across his forehead.

“That didn’t sound nice.” 

Ed jerked his head up so fast that his neck twinged painfully. Standing on the first set of stairs, leaning against the banister, was a tall, bulky man with a dark head of spiked hair. He was grinning in a way that made Ed immediately distrustful, but he figured that sweaty, tired, and carrying a large piece of furniture wasn’t the best position to be starting a fight in.

“No... not really. Do you live here?” Ed asked. The man pushed himself off the railing and began clunking down the stairs.

“Yeah, apartment 207. You must be new tenants. You fellas look like you could use some help with that,” he said, nodding at the dresser. Edward suppressed the urge to sneer and intentionally put his hands on the dresser again, prompting Al to get ready to lift it too. 

“No, we’re fine, thank you,” he said through gritted teeth. Unfortunately, the man physically  _ bumped  _ him out of the way and wrapped his hands around the edge of the dresser. 

“Please, I  _ insist.  _ It wouldn’t be polite to let a kid carry such a heavy thing up all those stairs,” he said, lifting the dresser with enviable ease and beginning to back up the stairs, Al scrambling forward. Ed bristled. 

“You saying I’m  _ short?!”  _ He snapped. 

_ “Brother,”  _ Alphonse interrupted sharply. 

“Not at all,” continued the rude stranger, as if Ed hadn’t just been two inches away from strangling him. “By the way, I never caught you guys’ names.” There was a painfully silent pause as he waited for a response, and Edward, stubborn and petty since the day he was born, refused to fill it. 

“M-my name is Alphonse,” Al jumped in nervously. “My Amestrian isn’t good, so my brother, Edward, sometimes translates for me.” Reluctantly, Ed resigned himself to trailing after their dresser. 

“Edward and Alphonse, huh? Well, pleased to meet ya,” the man said, setting down the dresser on the landing of the first flight of stairs. He stuck out his hand across the dresser for Al to shake. Edward’s eyes caught quickly onto the tattoo on the back of his hand, a red ouroboros.  

“People call me Greed.” 

Al shook the offered hand and then Greed turned on Edward, still grinning like a shark. Edward narrowed his eyes and then slowly grasped his hand. Before Greed could say something else, Ed yanked him close and jammed his hand into the other man’s jacket pocket. 

“I wonder why they call you that?” Ed snarled as he pulled out his  _ damned pocket watch  _ from the other man’s jacket. Greed looked momentarily flabbergasted before he burst out in loud, cackling laughter. 

“Oh shit! Looks like you got me,” he said, hands held up in surrender. Edward angrily returned his watch to its rightful place in his pants pocket. 

“Forgive me, sometimes I can’t help it,” Greed went on, shrugging nonchalantly. “Itchy fingers, you see.” He waggled them, as if they needed a demonstration, but Edward only shouldered him out of the way. 

“Yeah, please do me a favor and keep your hands off our shit,” he said, grunting as he picked up the dresser and continued on his way. Poor Alphonse looked so shaken. 

_ “Itchy fingers, he says,”  _ Ed spat in Xerxian to his brother. 

_ “I didn’t even see him take it,”  _ Alphonse mumbled, looking nervously at Greed, who was still lingering and watching and making himself increasingly discomforting to be around. 

_ “It was when he bumped into me to take the dresser. C’mon, I’m half afraid the moving truck is gonna be empty next time we head down.”  _ Ed and Al managed to haul the dresser into their apartment, and then returned to the truck to get the couch. Unfortunately, Greed wouldn’t leave them be. 

“Where you two from? I’ve never heard that accent before.” 

“Xerxes,” Edward grunted, heaving the couch over another step. God, they had two whole flights of this, he was gonna  _ die.  _

“Xerxes? That overglorified dustbowl?” 

Edward didn’t know what overglorified translated to, but he was almost positive it was an insult, so he just clenched his jaw and stayed quiet. The couch screeched a little as it was forced over another step, and Al nearly tripped over a step as he walked backwards up the stairs. 

“Why’d you come here? I mean, other than the fact that we’re the best, heh,” he pressed on. Ed and Al exchanged an eyeroll. 

“For the schools. We came to learn,” Ed said. Finally,  _ finally  _ the couch was hauled over the last step, and now it was an easy journey down the hall and into their apartment. Ed was forced to set the couch down momentarily, rubbing his hands together to soothe out the indents in his skin

“Pfft, lame,” Greed scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Well, I have places to be, so I’ll leave you two to get settled in.”  _ Thank fuck,  _ Edward thought.  

Ed jumped as Greed suddenly slung an arm over his shoulders and gripped him tight. 

“What the  _ fuck— _ ”  

Greed pulled Ed’s pocket watch out of his own pocket,  _ that bitch,  _ and dangled it in front of Ed’s face, chuckling a little. 

“I like you two, you’re funny, so I’ll leave this as a little parting gift. Wouldn’t want you to miss your classes, aye smartypants?” Greed teased, patting Edward’s hair mockingly. Ed swelled up with fury and snatched his watch. He tried to elbow Greed in the gut, but the man detached quickly and ducked away, laughing. 

“You’re an  _ asshole! _ ” Ed snapped at him. Greed shrugged, slinking back to the stairs, and then, to the astonishment of both Edward and Alphonse, the man launched himself over the banister and dropped down to the stairs below. Ed’s jaw dropped, and he darted over to the banister, glaring down. 

“Fucker!” 

“Your watch is an hour slow, by the way!” Greed shouted from a floor down. Edward growled and had half a mind to dive over the banister  _ himself  _ and  _ throttle  _ the motherfucker, but Alphonse’s hands clamped over his shoulders and pulled him back. 

_ “Edward, please! You’re gonna fall over the edge and break your neck!”  _ Alphonse pleaded. Edward shook off his little brother turning back to the couch sitting in the middle of the hallway. 

_ “Oh bullshit,”  _ he snapped.  _ “Just help me move this thing.”  _

They managed to wedge the couch through the door and into their apartment, where they decided to leave it at an awkward angle. It looked a little odd, considering it was the only thing in the living room, but Ed’s ass thought it was the best thing since the steam engine. Ed leaned against one of the arm rests and threw his legs over Al’s lap. 

_ “Ough...”  _ Ed grunted. Al made a noise in agreement and patted Ed’s prosthetic. 

_ “How’s your leg?” _

_ “Shitty.” _

Al gave a soft laugh. 

_ “Well, let’s try not to break it. You’ve only got one spare,”  _ he said, nodding his head with an air of wisdom. Ed kicked him. 

_ “The hell are you saying? I’m always careful,”  _ he said. 

_ “Yeah, sure. Edward “I-broke-my-foot-kicking-a-table-leg” Elric.” _

_ “Fuck you, that table leg deserved it.” _

A few minutes later, their conversation began to drift off as Alphonse began nodding off. Ed wasn’t doing much better _ — _ he only had enough energy to grab a blanket from one of their suitcases and toss it over the both of them before he passed out on the couch as well. 

The shitty neighbors, weird landlord, and ugly aesthetics of their apartment was more than made up for by the fact that it was only a twenty minute trolley ride to Central City University. The next morning, Ed and Al got up early, took baths, put on a fresh set of clothes and headed over to Central City’s most famous school of the sciences. 

Al couldn’t stop bouncing his leg on the trolley, and Ed didn’t blame him. Even though they were reasonably assured a spot at the university, the idea of their long, painful journey to get there being cut short by unavoidable circumstances made their stomachs clench.

The trolley dinged, alerting them of their stop. 

Stepping off was like stepping into a whole new world. 

Instead of dirty streets and suspicious street-goers, most people were dressed in impeccable suits, ladies flaunting elaborate silks, and the concrete was neatly swept. CCU dominated the area, a massive work of gorgeous architecture surrounded by a lush green lawn dotted with cherry trees. The bigger cities in Xerxes had similar styled buildings, but they were ancient and crumbling. 

CCU could have very well been the most luxurious thing either Elric had ever set their eyes on. 

They made their way up to the front, almost missing the man in the white suit waiting beside the door, puffing on a cigarette.

“Good morning,” he said, smiling at them. “Prospective students?” 

Ed and Al exchanged a look. 

“Yes,” Ed said, inclining his head. “I’m Edward, and this is my brother Alphonse. We’re here to see about enrolling for the fall semester.”

“Wonderful, follow me. We’ve had students coming through all day, registering only takes a few minutes,” the man said, stamping out his cigarette and holding the doors open for the brothers. “My name is Mr. Kimblee, I’m the Dean of Admissions here at Amestris.” 

The Elrics walked into the building, only gawking a  _ little _ as they stepped on polished marble floors and stared up at the vaulted ceilings. One could have mistaken it for a cathedral, with the stained glass windows and air of superiority. Kimblee’s shoes clicked loudly on the floor as they walked.  Ed and Al fell a little behind, and Ed’s gaze caught on the long black ponytail that tumbled like a bolt through the flawless ivory of his suit.

“By the way, is that accent I’m hearing Xerxian, perhaps?” He asked. Ed’s eyebrows lifted a little in surprise. 

“Yes, how could you tell?” Ed asked. 

_ “Because I speak a little myself. Xerxian and Drachman are both highly valued languages here at Amestris,”  _ Kimblee said, switching suddenly to Ed’s native language and tossing a smile over his shoulder. A pluck of relief Ed didn’t know he had been waiting for erupted in his chest. Considering the welcome he received at the borders and immigration office, it was nice to know that not  _ all  _ of his aspects as a foreigner were distasteful. 

_ “Well, it’s a good thing I’m fluent in both,”  _ Ed said. 

_ “Three languages? How incredible,”  _ Kimblee complimented. 

_ “Four, actually— I speak Xingese as well, though Alphonse is far better at it than I am.”  _

_ “I think it’s a little too late to disguise your bragging, Edward,”  _ Alphonse said flatly. Kimblee laughed loudly, throwing his head back with the effort. 

“Oh, I think you’ve both earned some bragging rights with your verbal skills. Forgive me for switching back to Amestrian, my Xerxian is a little rusty and I wouldn’t want to embarrass myself,” he said. 

“It’s no problem at all,” Edward mumbled, but Kimblee’s attention had been drawn to a desk occupied by a striking woman in a purple sweater. Ed glanced over at Al, who had a tight smile on his face.

_ “Something wrong?”  _ Ed whispered. Al shook his head, but knew better than to lie to the one person who knew him better than he knew himself.  

_ “I feel like a walking lamp. I wish I had studied Amestrian a little harder,”  _ he mumbled. Ed offered him a sympathetic look, but any further conversation was cut off by Kimblee turning around. 

“Elric, you said your names were?” He asked. Edward nodded and Kimblee glanced back down at whatever the woman had pulled out of her desk drawer. He nodded in satisfaction and again turned back to the brothers. 

“Gentlemen, if you’ll just follow me through this door, I can get you all set up,” he said, gesturing to a door off on the left that lead into a small office.

Kimblee took a seat behind a desk, and pulled a briefcase out, setting it on the table. 

“The registration process is quite simple, all you have to do is fill out this form and provide a fee of ten dollars. Tuition here at Central City University is three hundred dollars per year, which can be paid all at once or in increments. If you choose the incremental payment plan, there is a down payment of fifteen dollars. There is also a general fee of twenty-five dollars, and a fee for textbooks and supplies that adds up to thirty dollars. These fees, of course, go for the both of you.” Kimblee slid two small packets of papers over to them, stamped with the logo of CCU and covered in blank lines for answers. Edward picked it up and stared down at it suspiciously. 

“There’s no.. uh, test? To be admitted here?” He asked. Kimblee quirked his head. 

“Well, not if you already have an acceptance letter,” he said, interlacing his fingers and propping his chin on them with a smile. 

Edward stared down at the paper, his shoulder bag suddenly seeming much heavier. He  _ did  _ have an acceptance letter, as did Al, and he had religiously kept them pressed between the pages of a notebook to keep safe and unwrinkled even since they had been received in the mail months ago. 

“So, we fill out this form... Pay... and we’re in?” 

“That’s all there is to it. Here in Amestris, we prefer to keep things simple in order to provide as many opportunities as possible to make room for innovation,” Kimblee said, leaning back and gesturing around him. “How would all this be possible, otherwise?”

Edward’s brows furrowed a little. If his math was correct, that was ninety dollars he’d be paying right there just for  _ himself _ , not to mention their tuition for the rest of the year. And then  _ next  _ year’s tuition as well. 

Well, nobody said this school was going to be cheap _.  _

Edward sighed and unclipped his shoulder bag, reaching in and pulling out their acceptance letters from the pages of an old journal. Kimblee gave them a very critical look and then nodded in satisfaction. 

“Looks good. Just fill out those forms and pay the fees and you’ll be on your way,” he said airily. He pulled two pens from the breast pocket of his suit and passed them over. 

The office was silent as they filled out the papers, but for the scratching of pens and the gentle  _ tap-tap-tap  _ of Kimblee’s shoes on the floor. Edward felt sweat bead on his brows but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out why. 

Ed and Al finished at roughly the same time, sliding over their applications to Kimblee, who tucked them neatly into a folder in his briefcase. His palm extended towards them, and for the first time Edward noticed thin, red lines tracing circles into his skin. 

“Your payments,” he said simply. Ed blinked himself out of his small trance and then reached into his bag once more, wrinkling his nose a little as he pulled out a stack of banknotes. The paper seal was still as unbroken as it had been when he had exchanged his money at the bank in Xerxes. Ninety for him, and ninety for Alphonse. As he counted out the bills, Kimblee just sat there with his hand outstretched, that pleasant smile still sitting on his lips. 

Edward placed a hundred and eighty dollars into Kimblee’s hand, and felt a little bit of his soul go with it.

“Everything seems to be in order, Edward and Alphonse. I’m sure your experience here at Central City University will be incredibly lucrative. Be sure to attend the pre-registration on August 14th so that you can pick out your classes,” he said, counting out the money himself and then tucking that into his briefcase as well. Al waited until they were a good twenty feet outside of the building to let out a long, painful groan and clutch his chest. 

_ “I really hope we know what we’re doing, brother,”  _ he bemoaned. Edward grunted in agreement, flexing his hand over his bag, anxious at the sudden loss of weight despite the fact he knew  _ exactly  _ where every penny had gone. Al looked over at him and stopped walking. 

_ “How much do we have left?”  _ He asked in a quiet voice. Ed was afraid to look, but he did.

After the boat ticket, furniture, rent, tuition, and a twenty minute trolley ride, Edward and Alphonse Elric had nine dollars to their name.  


	2. Chasing Bodies to Fix the Parts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me @this chapter: That's a SPICY meat-a ball >:3c

When they got home, that number was reduced to seven dollars and fifty cents; their arms laden with bags of food as they returned to their dusty, still mostly empty apartment. Even the couch was still resting akimbo in the center of the room. Yesterday it had looked charming, a symbol of their first step to becoming proper Amestrian citizens, but now it was just kind of sad.

The brothers came to a silent agreement to neaten the place up a little, and that’s how the better part of an hour was spent. Alphonse unpacked and folded away the clothes from their suitcases, Ed shoved the couch into a position more suitable for a living room, and soon the vague horror of having just basically bankrupted themselves began to fade.

 _“Edward, can you go see if one of our neighbors has a broom? I want to clear up all this dust before we try to make dinner,”_ Al called from the bedroom, where he was laying bedding down on the mattress. Ed grumbled and struggled to his feet from where he had been kneeling on the floor and putting their few books away on their “new” bookshelf.

 _“I’d rather eat my left arm,”_ he muttered.

_“Just go do it! And don’t be mean, I’d rather not make enemies so soon after moving in.”_

Edward’s mind flashed back to their infuriating encounter with Greed earlier that day.

 _“Too late,”_ he muttered. But he left the apartment anyways and trudged down the hall to the nearest door. He rapped on the door twice and stuck his hands into his pockets, staring down at a crack in the door at the base.

“The fuck you want?” Came a voice from inside the apartment. Edward blinked. How pleasant.

“My name is Edward Elric, I’m your new neighbor. I was wondering if you had a broom I could borrow,” he said, trying to ignore the other person’s rudeness. A lock clicked on the door and then it was thrown open, an irate... person standing there. Their dreadlocks were twisted into a knot on top of their head, sharp eyes looking him up and down. Taught muscles stretched under tawny brown skin, completely bared to the world but for a pair of loose cotton pants and a length of cloth wrapped around their chest. Ed bristled under the scrutiny.

“A broom, you said?” They drawled. “What kinda dumbass doesn’t own a damned broom?” Edward groaned and rolled his eyes.

“This dumbass, apparently. Do you have one or not?” He snapped. The person smirked in amusement before retreated from the doorway for several seconds. They returned with a beat up broom in hand, which they used to jab Ed in the gut before handing it over.

“Leave it outside my door when you’re done, ‘kay pipsqueak?” They said. Edward felt his hackles raise and he gripped the broom tightly, sorely tempted to beat this person over the head with it.

“My name isn’t _fucking—_ ” The shirtless asshole waved off his objection with a dismissive hand.

“I know what your name is, twerp. Now get lost.”

They slammed the door directly in Ed’s face, almost clipping his toe with it. Grumbling under his breath, Ed returned to his own apartment. Was _everyone_ in Amestris this rude? Or did the Elrics just have supremely bad luck?

Probably the latter. Though it wouldn’t have been unappreciated for someone just to give him a simple “Welcome” or “I’m proud of you.” Fucking hell.

The next day, both brothers went out in search of jobs. Alphonse, the lucky bastard, found work as a waiter in a Xerxian restaurant a couple blocks from the apartment. It paid eight dollars a week, plus whatever he could take home in tips. Edward picked a fight with some guy harassing a woman outside a bar and ended up getting a bottle smashed over his head.

Oh, and he didn’t find a job either.

* * *

 

Pre-orientation snuck up far too quickly for either brother to be comfortable with, but the overall mood was that of thinly-veiled euphoria. They’d been in Amestris two weeks, and other than Greed occasionally harassing them and attempting to steal small nick-knacks from their apartment, things were going... good. One could almost say swell.  Maybe even great.

When they reached CCU, what had once been a huge swath of empty lawn had been turned into a packed venue for prospective students. Booths were set up, lining the roundabout drive in front.

 _“Oh, I’m so jittery. I wonder what kind of chemistry classes they’ll have,”_ murmured Alphonse, who hadn’t stopped vibrating since he had spontaneously began deep cleaning their apartment earlier that morning. Because it  _needed_ it, apparently. 

 _“Good ones, I’m sure,”_ Ed said, giving Al’s hand a squeeze where it was clutching onto his shirtsleeve in order to avoid being lost in the throng of students.

A big painted sign in front read “CHECK IN HERE” and the brothers made their way there.

A chirpy woman with huge glasses and mousy brown hair greeted them at the table, a large book open before her.

“Names, dears?” she asked.

“Edward and Alphonse Elric,” Ed responded. Already his gaze was drifting over her head to the booths behind her, signs for clubs and academics taunting him with possibilities. Flipping papers drew his attention back to the woman. She was frowning a little.

“What is it?”

“I’m sorry... I can’t seem to find your names,” she said. “How do you spell Elric?”

“E-L-R-I-C,” he spelled out. Alphonse tugged on his sleeve.

 _“What’s the matter?”_ he whispered.

“ _”Nothing, relax,”_ he muttered. The woman flipped through a few more times before glancing back up.

“Are you sure you applied and paid your fees already?” she asked. “You do know this is for students who’ve already—”

“ _Yes,_ we’ve already done that. Our names should be in there, I don’t know why it’s so hard to find. Check the back,” he urged, growing irate. The girl flinched and began fumbling through the book, a bead of sweat rolling down her temple.

“I-I’m sorry, but if you signed up, you’d be in here,” she stammered.

“Then there’s been some mistake,” he insisted. “It was a hundred and eighty dollars, my fees are fucking paid.”

The woman stopped flipping.

“A hundred and eighty?”

God, why did this even fucking _matter._

“Yes, ninety each. The-the down payment and the textbook fees. Why does that matter?” he snapped. The woman suddenly blanched and clutched the sides of her head.

“Oh no, oh no... Uhhh... please wait here, I’ll be right back.”

Then she got up and fled.

Alphonse yanked on Edward’s arm more insistently.

 _“Why was she questioning how much money we paid? What’s going on, Edward?”_ he said, eyes tight with anxiety. Only then did the icy deadweight of fear fully come down on him. God, he hoped this was a mistake. _Please_ let this be some kind of filing error, _please—_

The woman had returned, with a police officer trailing after her.

The oatmeal he had eaten for breakfast threatened to make a reappearance.

“These two young men insist that they paid the fees, but they’re not in the books, just like the others,” she said, her mouth moving so fast that Ed could barely keep up in his frazzled state. The officer, blonde, broad, and tall looked at the Elrics with tired eyes and Ed felt himself shrivel.

“Could you two come with me, please?” he said. It wasn't really a question, though. The Elrics glanced helplessly at each other before following the officer through the crowds and into the school itself. Waiting inside was another officer, and a medium sized group of about twenty other pale-faced young adults. The new officer turned around, and his face pulled with something like sympathy as Ed and Al approached. He looked like a kind man, with scruff on his chin and glasses perched on his nose, and Ed prayed that maybe this person would say something that _actually_ made sense.

“More, huh? Well, shit,” he said.

“You can explain to these kids, Hughes. I’m gonna go wait with Sheska so that she won’t have to come running every time someone new shows up. Obviously this guy is a lot more clever than we thought,” he muttered. The other officer, Hughes apparently, sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“Yeah, go do that,” he said. Hughes then turned to the brothers and beckoned them over.

“Sorry to freak you out like this, boys. It seems like we’ve got one hell of a conman on our hands. Apparently, he’s somehow managed to scam you, plus all these other poor saps, out of a lot of money,” he said. Ed frowned and shook his head, pinching his eyes shut. There were too many unfamiliar words, not to mention he didn’t want to believe this was happening.  

“I don’t... understand,” he said with difficulty. Hughes raised his eyebrows upon hearing his accent and laughed nervously.

“Oh, my bad. Uhh... do you recall a man named Kimblee?” He said. Ed nodded. “He’s a conman. A, er... a criminal. Trickster? He tricked you guys into giving him money. He never actually worked for the school,” he said. Ed groaned, his worst fears confirmed.

 _“Fuck,”_ he spat in Xerxian. _“Fucking shit!”_  

This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. Ed twisted his fingers into his long hair and tugged, hoping to rip himself from whatever nightmare this was. This couldn’t be how seven years of back-breaking work ended. He couldn’t have just flushed nearly _two hundred dollars_ to some fucking asshole who _—_

 _“Edward, you’re going to pass out if you keep that up,”_ Alphonse fretted, wrapping his hands around Ed’s shoulders. He gave a comforting pat and Ed detached his hands from his hair, looking back up at Hughes.

“Is there any way we can get the money back?” he pleaded. Hughes gnawed on his lip and rubbed a hand over his scruffy beard.

“Honestly, I don’t think there’s much hope at this point. He’s completely vanished from the city, and there’s almost no chance we could track him down. I don’t even think Kimblee is his real name, and if it was then he’s probably long since changed it by now. This man is obviously very skilled at what he does,” he said. Ed felt the familiar swell of anger in his chest, but for once, it had nowhere to go. There was nothing he could punch, no one to yell at but himself for falling for such a stupid trick.

Ed abruptly turned on heel and stormed towards the doors.

“Ah, hey wait! I’m sure the school can _—”_

“I’m sorry, sir, I think Brother just needs time to think,” Alphonse said, and Ed didn’t catch what Hughes responded with, because he had already thrown open the doors and was booking it as fast as he could away from the campus.

He rushed back to his apartment on foot, hunched up to avoid any roaming eyes and glaring at any that dared rest on him. His skin was prickly and too tight and he wished he could just run, but his _fucking leg_ would give out if he tried. God dammit, god _fucking_ dammit. It was too much to ask for, wasn’t it?! Too much to ask for one thing to go right in his whole miserable fucking life.

Ed managed to wrestle open his apartment door and lock himself inside just as the bitter, frustrated tears began rolling down his cheeks. Stupid, shitty, _fucking_ Kimblee. Or whatever the fuck his real name was. This wasn’t _fair._

It wasn’t fucking _fair._

* * *

 

By the time Alphonse came home, Ed had mostly cleared himself up. His eyes were still puffy and red, but it’s not like he’d ever been able to hide his emotions from Alphonse Elric.

The sun was low in the sky when Al wearily opened the door, kicking off his shoes and stumbling over to the couch where Ed was sitting. Sprawling, more like.

 _“What did that cop have to say?”_ he mumbled. Al scratched the side of his nose and stared dismally down at the floor.

_“There’s nothing Officer Hughes can do about all our lost money. The school refuses to reimburse people for the loss. But, uh, as it turns out, Kimblee overcharged us. The full fees to start at CCU are only seventy-five per person. If we pay it by August thirtieth, we could still—”_

_“Oh, BULLSHIT, Alphonse!”_ Ed pushed himself off the couch and went to pacing. _“Where the fuck are we gonna get that kind of money?!”_

 _“We could always try next year—”_ Ed kicked an empty suitcase, sending it tumbling across the floor before slamming into the wall.

 _“Seven years, Al! It took us seven years to save up that much money! And we just pissed it all away on some fucking goon who played us like a fucking harp!”_ Ed was practically frothing, every brain cell fried with boiling rage. Al jumped to his feet as well, his soft features twisted with anger.

 _“Stop acting as if this is all your fault! We went into that together, and we weren’t the only damned people to get played!”_ he shouted. Ed scrubbed his hands through his hair in frustration, his braid already a disaster from having repeated the motion dozens of times within the past hour. Alphonse puffed up his chest, but instead of more shouting, like Ed expected, he turned around and went for the jar hidden on the bookshelf where they kept their money. He grabbed a fistful of change and then stormed over to Ed.

_“What are you—?!”_

_“Go get yourself a damned drink, Edward. You’re unbearable when you’re like this,”_ he snapped. Ed sputtered in disbelief as he was gripped by the shoulders, turned, and shoved towards the door.

 _“Don’t be an idiot, we don’t have money to waste like this!”_ he protested. Al turned the doorknob and then gave Ed a mighty shove that nearly sent him sprawling on his face.

 _“It’s my treat.”_ He slammed the door. Ed stared down in disbelief at the pile of change in his hand, and then at the closed door.

_“Alcohol is illegal here, you dumbass!”_

_“You’ll manage!”_

And then there was silence. Ed sighed and shoved the money in his pocket, resigning himself to his fate and heading for the stairs. He heard a door creak open and turned around to see their neighbor, who they had learned was named Envy, giving him the stink eye.

“Keep your fucking couple spats at a lower volume, twerp,” they snapped. Ed had come to realize that it was easier just not talking to them. He flipped the bird (a new and exciting gesture he had recently learned) over his shoulder and then stomped as loudly as he could down the first flight of stairs.

When he exited the apartment building, the sun had set and the streets were glowing with lamplight. Ed had thought this was amazing his first few nights here, but now all he could see were the bugs that liked to float around it and make themselves annoying.

 _Get a drink,_ what kind of joke was that? Alcohol was illegal, it’s not like he was just gonna find _—_

A man, singing what sounded like a pirate shanty, stumbled past Ed, clearly drunk, with a bottle of liquor swishing in his fist. Ed stared at him until he tripped and fell on his face, giggling like an idiot.

Welp. He’d manage.

Ed picked a direction and went with it. A man that drunk couldn’t have gotten far from the source of his inebriation.

It couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes before Ed strolled upon a building, soft light pouring through the small window. A sign above the door read _“Madam Christmas Jazz Lounge.”_ A white poster beside the door caught his eye: _In accordance with the 18th Amendment, no intoxicating liquor is sold on the premises._

That looked promising.

Ed shoved open the door and headed inside.

The place was nice, he supposed. Warm light spilled over hardwood paneling, and booths circled the room, occupied by people talking quietly, enjoying a smoke and what definitely looked like alcohol. Soft music played from a phonograph in the corner, only adding to the classy atmosphere. Ed spotted a bar in the back and made a beeline for it. He had about three dollars in his pocket and it was time to make the most of it.

He slid into the furthest available seat from any other person and rapped his knuckles on the counter to get the bartender’s attention.

“Give me something that’s strong and cheap,” he said, once the man’s eyes fell on Ed. The bartender gave him a slow once over, puffing slowly on his cigarette, and upon deciding that Ed had passed whatever silent test, shrugged to himself, and turned around to open a cabinet and pull out a bottle.

“Wanna start a tab?” he said as he filled the glass with a mouthful of some unfamiliar amber liquid. Ed shook his head and pulled his money out of his pocket, slapping it down on the table.

“Just stop me when I go past this,” he muttered, picking up the drink and giving it a whiff. Holy shit, the bartender had _not_ been fucking around with the “strong drink” request. Whatever, down the hatch it went. Ed screwed up his nose and suffered through the burn, and then waved for another.

Alphonse, as per usual, had been dead on with what Ed needed. Edward: 12, Alphonse: 128365. But who was keeping track, right?

He might have been the older brother, but sometimes it sure as hell didn’t feel like it.

After the second drink, Ed slowed down and let the buzz set in, staring down at his third. Ethanol, C2H6O... flammable, with a boiling point of 78 degrees celsius. Ed thought back to when he was ten and finally trusted enough to take the big textbooks home from the library. He and Alphonse had stayed up for hours under the light of an oil lamp, just absorbing fact after fact after fact. Different known chemical reactions, anatomical structures of humans, bats, even dolphins for some strange reason. Anything they could get their tiny hands on.

It had been awhile since he’d been able to feel that satisfying buzz in his skull after having learned something new and mind-blowing. He’d been looking forward to getting his hands on Amestris’s famous library. He gritted his teeth, realizing that dream was now far out of his reach, if it was even still attainable at all. Ed raised his glass to his lips.

_Clink._

Ed paused and stared down at the glass that had been placed before him. He raised an eyebrow at the bartender, who was making a smug face that he didn’t really like.

“I don’t remember changing my order,” he said flatly. Blondie McSmoker nodded his head towards a booth on Ed’s right.

“Whiskey Sour, courtesy of Mr. Mustang over there,” he said. Ed blinked, and then turned to look. Immediately, he ran smack into the dark gaze of a well dressed man relaxed in a booth with four other people, two men and two women. Oh sweet fucking Jesus...

Ed quickly turned back to the drink sitting on the table. It looked fancy, with ice cubes clinking inside it and a fuckin’ lemon slice perched on the rim. This had to be some kind of mistake, right? His mind’s eye flashed to his long yellow hair.

“He knows I’m not a girl, right?” he asked Smoker, brows pinched in bewilderment.

“He knows,” Smoker confirmed with a slow, amused nod as he wiped out a glass and returned it to the shelf. Ed’s face flushed a little, and in a sort of haze, he pulled the fancy drink closer.

“Oh.”

He turned back around to face this “Mr. Mustang,” who was now leaning forward a little to talk with one of the women at his table. The guy on his right noticed Ed’s gaze and elbowed Mustang. His eyes immediately flicked back to Ed, and he smiled, raising his glass and tipping his head. With a lack of anything better to do, Ed mimicked the motion, and then sipped his drink. As expected, it tasted a hell of a lot better than the shit he’d been drinking. Sour and sweet with the bite of the alcohol just barely there.

Ed sipped quietly on his drink, unsure of how Amestrians would proceed from here. Did he start a conversation? Was he supposed to wait? Was he just reading the whole situation wrong and the guy was just being nice?

“Bourbon, please, Havoc.”

To his credit, Ed didn’t jump when Mustang slid into the seat next to him. He could smell cigar smoke clinging to his clothes, sharp and spiced, and it made his tipsy head spin.

“Sure thing, boss,” Smok—Havoc said, smoothly serving up a glass and more liquor. While he was doing so, Mustang turned his attention to Ed, and Ed was pretty sure he was about to have a stroke.

“I hope Havoc hasn’t been harassing you too much,” he said, propping his cheek on his white-gloved hands. “He always loses himself around the pretty ones.”

Ed huffed a little and traced his thumb through the condensation on his glass, trying to figure out why one of the most attractive people he’d ever seen in his life was trying to _chat him up._

“If that’s what’s considering harassing, I must have the wrong definition,” he said dryly. He glanced up when he heard Mustang chuckle a bit.

“Haha, very funny,” Havoc snarked. “Careful I don’t spit in your drink.”

“Careful I don’t cut your paycheck,” Mustang retorted, but there was a weird affection in his voice that said that would be one of the last things he would ever do. Edward took a slow breath and then a long chug of his drink, draining it down to the melted ice cubes.

“... Mustang, was it?” he said, raising an eyebrow. Mustang smiled and waved his hand lazily.

“Please, Roy will do. And you are?” he asked. Ed tapped a finger against his wooden knee, idly considering how much of a bad idea this would be.

“Edward. Edward Elric.”

“Edward,” Roy repeated, and fuck if his voice didn’t sound like _honey_ dripping from his damned lips. “Pleasure to meet you.”

Ed thought about all those Amestrian phrases he’d repeat to himself from the books when he was first learning.

“Pleasure’s all mine.”

* * *

 

Roy bought him another drink, and they talked. For how long, Ed couldn’t be sure, because his cheeks were warm and the drinks were cold and Roy made him feel like a millionaire and he ceased to give a shit about time.

“Xerxes? That’s incredible. You’re a hell of a long ways from home,” Roy said. Ed hummed and traced his fingers over scratches in the surface of the counter.

“It’s easy not to miss when there’s nothing really to go back to,” he mumbled. Roy frowned, this perfect little furrowing of his brows that made Ed want to either punch him or kiss him. Maybe both at the same time.

“Nothing? Not a single person?” he said. Ed wiggled his nose a little and took a sip.

“Well, I’ve got an old friend who’s something like my...” What’s the word? It was getting harder and harder to push the right language through his teeth. Oh wait— “Sister. But she runs her grandma’s shop now and if I had stuck around, she probably would have killed me.” Both men shared a small chuckle, and there was a lull as they nursed their perspective drinks. Ed realized they were close enough for their shoulders to brush, and he idly wondered when that happened. Then decided that he liked it and didn’t really care.

“Sounds like a real bearcat,” Roy said. Ed didn’t know what bearcat meant, but Roy’s tone was warm and affectionate, so he supposed it meant something good. Oh look, he was down to the ice cubes again.

“Listen, Edward _—_ ”

“Ed,” he butted in. “People who like me call me Ed.”

Roy smiled and Ed’s stomach promptly left the station.

“Ed” _—Oh Jesus—_ “If you’re amenable to the idea, there’s a back room that I’d like to get to know you in.” Roy’s eyes were like smoke and stars and Ed felt something somewhere in him shatter a little bit.

“I don’t know what the fuck amenable means, but yes. Whatever you’re offering, I’ll take it,” he breathed. Roy smiled and all those little broken piece fit themselves back together.

“ _Excellent._ ”

* * *

 

Ed was too drunk to really keep track of where Roy was taking him, but what he did notice was that the lighting was dim, there was tile under his feet, something cool pressing into his lower back, and Roy was kissing the breath out of him.

The man was _tall._ He didn’t realize at first because they had both been sitting down, but now his head was straining up to meet those perfect, honey-sweet lips and, honestly, it was a little frustrating. Ed wrapped his arms around Roy’s shoulders and yanked him down lower, grumbling low in his chest.

“You’re too damned tall,” he mumbled. Roy laughed against his lips, allowing himself to be manhandled with an easy grace.

“My bad,” he said. Then his hands grabbed under Ed’s ass and hoisted him up effortlessly. The cool thing pressing into Ed’s back turned out to be a small counter, and when Roy set him down on it, they were almost level. Not quite, but almost.

It wasn’t until Roy suddenly broke off with a confused hum that Ed realized his left leg was still sticking out awkwardly. Ed felt his cheeks prickle with embarrassment.

“Shit, forgot about that,” he muttered. His heart began to hammer when Roy’s hands started roaming, catching on the area above his knee that turned from flesh to wood and cloth. Yup, this was it, night ruined, time to go home and miserably jack off in the bathroom _—_

“Does it bend?” Roy asked softly. Ed floundered, pulled out of his downward spiral so fast he nearly got whiplash.

“Uh, t-there’s a clasp,” he stammered. He reached forward and pressed the little latch hidden behind his knee, making the leg swing down and thump mutedly against the counter. He waited, tense and nervous, for Roy’s reaction.

“Huh. Interesting.”

Roy gripped Ed’s thighs and guided his right leg around his waist, while he let his bum leg hook around his knee. The position it pulled him into was open and lewd and entirely shameful but Ed was eating it up. Roy dipped his head and worked his mouth along Ed’s throat, drawing out a ruined moan.

Ed pushed his hands through soft black hair, nails scratching lightly along the other man’s scalp. He didn’t expect Roy to _groan_ into his collarbone, but he was pleased nonetheless. Emboldened, he gave a gentle tug and was rewarded with a stunted rock of Roy’s hips into his.

“Fuck,” Roy rumbled. “ _Edward._ ”

God _damn._

Shaking his head, he fumbled with Roy’s jacket, and it was shed without much trouble. The suspenders went easily as well, but when he went for the buttons of his shirt, Roy suddenly snatched his wrist in a strong grip. Ed blinked up at Roy in confusion, only to see lines drawn deep around his eyes, tight with something that a sober Edward might have labeled as discomfort.

“You’re, uh... not the only one with battle scars,” he said. Normally, Ed would have taken this as a sign to move onto something, to brush off the moment and continued with what they were doing. Well, normally he wasn’t five or six drinks deep and so desperately turned on he could barely see straight. So Ed swatted Roy’s hand away and looked him dead in the eye as he undid each button as deliberately as his intoxicated hands could manage.

Roy gave up the staring match when Ed reached the second to last button, turning his head away and closing his eyes. When Ed shoved the shirt over his shoulders, what greeted him was a wide expanse of skin on his left flank that was pink and gnarled up with burn scars. Ed let his fingers drag lightly over his torso, head tilting a little as it caught the low light. His eyes flicked back up to Roy’s face, to find him still averting his gaze. Absolutely unacceptable.

Ed wound his arms around Roy’s neck, pulling him in for another kiss.

“Huh,” he said. “ _Interesting._ ”

Roy sighed against his lips, and his hands came up to cup either side of his face so that he could go from kissing Ed’s lips, to peppering them over his cheeks and to the sensitive bit of his neck right behind his ear.

“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” he breathed. Ed chuckled.

“I’ve got a few,” he purred, and then dropped his hand to grab a handful of Roy through his pants, making the older man grunt in shock.

“Christ, Ed _—_ ”

Roy didn’t bother finishing. He pulled back just enough to grip his gloves in his teeth and pull them off, and Ed wasn’t some kind of sexual maniac but that was definitely the hottest thing he had ever seen in his life.

With his freed fingers, Roy undid Ed’s vest, and then his shirt. He barely gave Ed a moment to breathe before he licked a bold stripe up Ed’s sternum, his feverish skin sparking under the attention. He sighed and let his head loll back until it thunked against the mirror behind him. Oh, so that’s where they were _—_ a small, single person bathroom.

Any and all thoughts were wiped from his head when Roy went for his belt buckle. Roy caught the hitch in his breath, and glanced up through long, beautiful eyelashes.

“You okay?” He breathed, his cheeks flushed prettily. Amestrian wasn’t working for Ed, so he just nodded and let Roy keep kissing and marking up his torso, leaving lovebites that would turn into blooming bruises in the morning.

How was this even happening? Ed couldn’t believe he was seriously about to hook up with a stranger in a bathroom. This couldn’t be happening.

_“Fuck!”_

This was happening.

Ed twined his fingers into Roy’s hair, and he might have been imagining it, but he could have sworn that Roy _melted._ He worked on Ed languidly, not particularly quick or intense, but it was driving him nuts. His mouth was divine, his hair was soft, his hands were strong, and Ed thought that he may or may not be drowning.

Everything was growing too hot, too fast, and the pleasure was threatening to overwhelm him. Ed gave Roy’s hair a sharp tug.

“Wait,” he moaned. “Wait, wait, wait.”

Roy pulled off immediately, and would have backed even further away, had Ed not physically _dragged_ the man up by his hair and crushed his mouth against his.

“What...?”

“Didn’t wanna finish like that,” he slurred. He reached down and undid Roy’s pants, immediately shoving his hand into his underwear to curl his fingers around Roy’s length. Roy figured out what Ed was aiming for and helped by yanking him closer so that their hips were flush. He covered Ed’s hand with his own, wrapping one large palm around them both. His other hand propped against the mirror behind Ed, allowing him to slouch lower and bury his face into the crook of Ed’s neck.

“Like this?” He murmured.

“Like this.”

The slick slide against Ed was almost worse (better?) than Roy’s mouth and he felt his toes curl inside his shoe. It felt like there was an elastic band in his gut being stretched in a thousand different directions. Ed put his unoccupied hand back in Roy’s hair and let his eyes fall shut, allowing himself to just be swept away in the tide.

“Ah, Roy _,_ ” Ed whimpered. “Roy, Roy, _Roy._ ”

Fuck, he was _so close._ Please, _please—_

Ed gasped as the rubber band snapped, and everything seemed to go white around the edges. But Roy kept going, making stars burst behind his eyelids and his thighs shake as he was overstimulated almost to the point of pain. His nails dug hard into Roy’s shoulders, leaving crescent shaped indents.

 _“Shit, fuck, no wait, oh my god,”_ he babbled in Xerxian. Then Roy groaned into his neck as he finished as well, sagging a little.

There was moment where the only sounds in the room were their matching gasps.

Then Ed let out a breathy chuckle, letting his head fall back and his muscles to relax. Roy let out a laugh of his own and straightened up, looking down at Ed with a crooked smile.

“Something funny?” He said as he reached over and pulled a towel from the rack and ran it under the faucet on Ed’s right. He shrugged a little, watching Roy’s hands as they went about the task.

“This is... not how I expected the night to go,” he said. Roy hummed in amusement as he turned back to Ed and began cleaning him up.

“And how _did_ you expect it to go?” He said, being unexpectedly gentle as he wiped along Ed’s softening member. Ed shrugged, trying to hide his small shiver.

“Get slightly drunk on shitty liquor because I’m poor and then go home and sleep away my problems,” he said. Roy laughed and pulled Ed’s shirt back onto his shoulders where it had been bunched around his wrists, too caught up in the heat of the moment to remove it properly, and promptly began buttoning it up.

“Hm. Now I’m glad I harassed you into sharing a drink with me,” he said. Ed let himself be taken care of without much thought, and once Roy was done fussing, he zipped up his pants, snapped his prosthetic into its standing position and slid off the counter.

“I thought Havoc was the one that harassed me?” He said slyly.

“Harassing by proxy,” Roy amended. He picked up his jacket from the floor and brushed it off before throwing it back over his shoulders. Ed shook his head, the phrase passing in through one ear and out the other. He was still decently drunk and the mix of alcohol and endorphins was making everything warm and fuzzy.

“... ride home?”

Ed glanced up from where he had been fixing the cuff of his shirt. Oh shit, he had been talking.

“Hm?”

“I said, do you want a ride home? I have a car out back,” Roy said, his voice rumbling with laughter. Ed opened his mouth and then closed it, because could this man even be real? Sucked his dick and then offered him a ride in an actual _automobile?_

God. This was such a bad idea. Where was the catch?

“That would be... greatly appreciated,” he said carefully. Roy tucked his shirt back into his pants and finished fixing himself up. Other than his hair being more ruffled than it had been at the start of the night, he looked just as put together as he had before they had messed around. Fucker.

Roy opened the bathroom door and, just to be smug, held it open for Ed.

Walking through the bar, empty as it was at whatever ungodly hour of the night, was still mildly humiliating in and of itself. The logical bit of him knew that he wasn’t doing anything particularly shady, but the drunk, paranoid part of him smothered that part out, insisting that he was being pinned by a thousand stares and whispers.

“Kain,” Roy called over to the booth he had been sitting in earlier. A man snorted and jerked up from where he had been resting his head on the table, the imprint of his sleeve pressed into his cheek.

“Y-yes?” He stammered, fixing his crooked glasses. Roy jerked his chin up in a “follow me” gesture, and Kain quickly slid out of the booth and followed after the pair as they exited the bar into the night.

“Go get the car, Ed here needs a ride home,” he said. Kain nodded, and jogged off and slipped down an alley. Roy turned back to Ed.

Ah. Talking. It was less awkward before Ed jerked him off in a bar bathroom. _Hhhggg..._

“You don’t seem like the type of person that frequents places like these,” Roy said slowly, his voice a little more serious than it had been all night. Ed shoved his hands into his pants pocket and rolled his shoulders in an approximation of a shrug.

“Not... really,” he mumbled. Roy sighed a little and stared out at the empty, cobblestone street.

“I assumed as much,” he said. “Well, I enjoyed tonight anyways. If you ever want to do anything like it again I _—_ ” Ed glanced up to see Roy with his shoulders a bit hunched, ears slowly bleeding red. Why, one could say he was _shy_ “ _—_ I can be found here more often than not. Pay me a visit sometime?”

Ed’s hands fidgeted, buried deep in their pockets. He was too _tired_ for social intricacies.

“Sure.”

Roy’s face lit up with a pair of headlights and Ed turned around to watch a shiny Model T rumble around the corner, pulling to a stop in front of the pair. Ed turned back to Roy, shuffling his bum leg awkwardly.

“I... I’ll see you again, I suppose,” he said, wincing at how forced it sound. Roy either didn’t notice or didn’t care, and just reached over to pull the car door open.

“Hopefully,” he hummed with a smile. Ed shuffled past and then slid into the seat, immediately hit by the heady smell of leather and cigars and Roy. Ugh, Christ, he was already too used to the smell going hand in hand with dizzying amounts of pleasure. That needed to stop before he started popping boners when he’s stuck on the trolley with a schmuck that liked to smoke.

“Thank you.”

Ed jumped, because suddenly Ed was eye level with him and _right there._ Ed’s eyes compulsively jumped down to his lips and then back up to his eyes.

“Goodnight, Ed.”

The kiss was soft, and Ed’s eyes fluttered shut. Roy’s hand, gloved once again, trailed over his jaw as he pulled away.

“Goodnight,” Ed blurted, and Roy smirked and stood back up, shutting the car door and giving the roof a quick whap. The car pulled away from the curb and Ed slumped in his seat.

“Address?”

Ed’s eyes snapped to the driver, Kain(?), who was glancing at him in the rearview mirror. Oh fuck, he had completely forgotten that he was there to witness that entire exchange, _time to kill himself immediately._

“310 Alchemy Avenue,” he said instead.

Ed turned back to the window and watched streetlights and dark windows whip past. What a night. He left for a pity drink and returned with what felt dangerously like a crush.

Oh boy. _Ooooohhhhh_ boy.


	3. Just a Better Way to Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting schedule? Idk her.....

Ed woke up, curled on the couch with a blanket tossed over him and his head feeling like it was splitting open. He groaned and shifted, but paused when he felt something blissfully cool drape itself over his forehead. 

“Ugh... Al?” He croaked, throat bone dry. Al hummed a little and then the cushions dipped under his weight. 

_ “I assume your night went well,”  _ he said, with a smug tone in his voice. His finger jabbed into Ed’s neck and he was suddenly,  _ vividly  _ reminded of the man who had sucked a bruise into his skin last night. He grumbled and swatted the hand away.

_ “Shut up.”  _

Ed sighed and brought a hand up to massage the gunk out of his eyes. Regardless of how  _ nice  _ his night had been, their current situation was still the same: broke, with damaged prides and pretty much no chance at getting into CCU. 

He pulled the washcloth off his forehead and forced his eyes open, swearing at the light that streamed through the windows. God, his head was  _ killing  _ him. Al scooched over as he sat up and Ed’s hand immediate smacked at his empty pant leg. 

_ “Where—?” _

_ “On the other side of the couch.”  _

Of course it was. Edward rubbed his hands along the cheap fabric of the cushions, frowning hard. He needed to hurry up and find a job, it wasn't fair to Alphonse to have to baby him. He pushed himself to his feet _ — _ er, foot _ — _ and hopped over to the arm of the couch, where his leg sat waiting. A hollow wooden and metal structure that was a pain in the ass to get through a pant leg, but he was immensely thankful for anyways.

He went to work attaching it back to his stump, buckling the support belt around his waist and then tucking his shirt over it. He pushed himself onto his feet in one practiced motion, and then made his way over to the bathroom. 

_ “Would it kill you to give yourself a break every now and then?”  _ Al commented offhandedly, trailing after him.  _ “The world won’t fall down around our ears.”  _

Ed snorted as he ran the water and splashed some over his face and the back of his neck. 

_ “Last I knew, it has, Al.”  _

_ “Ha ha ha,”  _ he retorted sarcastically. 

_ “I’m going out to look for a job,”  _ Ed continued, as if Al hadn’t spoken.  _ “Don’t  _ you _ have to be at work right now?”  _

_ “Not until nine.”  _ Ed dried his face and brushed past Alphonse into the kitchen, where a bucket of water sat, boiled last night to kill anything nasty in it and thus used strictly for drinking. He chugged a glass, ignored his pounding head, grabbed his jacket and keys and headed for the door. 

_ “Have a swell day, then, brother.”  _ He gave Al a sarcastic little salute and then shut the apartment door behind him. He wasn’t looking forward to a day of walking around and getting odd looks for his gait, but he’d been dealing with it for almost ten years now. One more day wouldn’t hurt. 

Ed hit the bottom of the first flight of stairs and nearly crashed into a person loitering there, hands shoved nonchalantly into his pockets, a newsboy cap tucked onto his head. Ed narrowed his eyes, already grumpy  _ without _ idiots blocking stairways, being obnoxious and intrusive. 

“‘Scuse me,” he muttered. 

“Hey, friend,” the man said, looking to all the world like someone who had found a long lost pal.  _ Good god noooo.  _ “I heard you and your pal are in a bit of a bind.” 

Ed gave the man the stink eye. 

“Awful observant of you,” he said snidely. The man smiled a little and shrugged.

“Thin walls, loud voices. You know how it goes, eh?”  _ No, he didn’t, because he preferred to mind his own motherfucking business.  _ “Listen, I think I could help _ —”  _

“Not interested,” Ed immediately cut in. He’d had more than a lifetime’s worth of smooth talkers giving him false hopes, only to squish him under their shiny Amestrian boots. 

“Alrighty then. Just let me know when you are,” he said, offering a little wave as Ed began hurrying down the last flight of stairs. Smug asshole. Everything would be fine, even if it wasn’t ideal. He didn’t need some shady looking bastard dangling a poisoned carrot.

* * *

 

Against his better judgement, he walked to CCU and poked around for work there.  _ Anything  _ would have been more than acceptable; a cook, a library aide, even a damned  _ janitor  _ would have been okay. Anything that would have given him a minute’s access to the library, or even just passing classrooms and snatching lectures. 

He could tell from the moment they heard his accent that it wasn’t happening. They had the courtesy to tell him that all positions were filled, but the bitter feeling stayed. 

It didn’t help that almost any and all manual labor jobs were out: just moving a few measly pieces of furniture made his prosthetic creak worryingly, and twelve hour shifts of that would chew him up and spit him out in a matter of days. It was ironic, really: one of the only secure job positions for a fresh immigrant, and he couldn’t even consider it. 

This was fine. 

Edward went up and down multiple streets, ducking into every shop, store, and bank, with very little luck. 

The rejections ranged from a gruff, “no, we’re not hiring” to slightly more aggressive “we don’t need any fuckin’ cripples.” 

Midday came and went with even less luck than before. One woman responded to his inquiry about work with an offer to work washing sheets in the basement of the building, but Ed backed the hell out of there upon seeing the drippy pipes and mold growing on the walls; that was just  _ asking  _ to get violently sick. Spores and moist lungs do not go together. 

He wandered further and further from his apartment, and his prosthetic was started to chafe his thigh through the sock something awful. He was sweaty, he was thirsty, the sun was beginning to set, and he was fairly sure he was bleeding from where his skin had torn open. Ravenous and exhausted, he gave into his hunger and bought a baked potato for two cents from a vendor. He sat his ass down awkwardly on the curbside and began to nibble. It tasted like cardboard, but people who got scammed out of outrageous amounts of money didn't get to be picky. 

Faintly, Edward missed his mother’s meals. He missed  _ vasilopitas _ on New Year’s, and chewing carefully to make sure he didn't crack his tooth on the lucky coin. He missed burning his tongue on  _ lokmas _ and throwing dirt at Alphonse. 

“Spare change?” 

Ed blinked and lifted his head. A woman stood before him, dressed in filthy rags that could just barely claim to be clothes. She had a heavy accent, though not one he recognized, and brown hair that had been hacked short. Her hand stretched out towards him, palm up.

“Spare change?” She repeated. Ed vaguely wondered if she even knew any other phrase in Amestrian. He empathized, though. That could be him and Alphonse soon if he didn't get his shit together. 

Ed broke off a large chunk of his potato and silently handed it over. The woman seemed surprised, but she clutched it close nonetheless. 

“Bless,” she said. “ _ Bless. _ ”

She grabbed his hand and kissed it before hurrying down the street. Ed sniffed dismissively, shoving the rest in his mouth and then hoisting himself to his feet. 

He slowly ambled home, watching as stores flipped their open signs to closed, and the light began to fade. He must have walked nearly two miles from his apartment, and he wasn’t looking forward to the trek. On a job hunt, and he came home two cents poorer than when he left. 

He sure was a genius, alright.

* * *

 

Ed jammed his key angrily into the door and let himself into the building, wanting to get upstairs and get his leg off as soon as possible. He wasn’t looking forward to the flights of stairs that always seemed bigger at the end of the day

“Hey Eddy, who’s  _ R? _ ” 

Ed jerked his head up at where Greed was standing on the stairs, leaning against the banister and staring at a small white card in his hand. He glanced up and raised a snarky eyebrow. He dangled a small basket on his finger, the contents a mystery from this vantage point. 

“What?”

“Edward,” Greed said, reading out loud from the card. “Thank you for the enjoyable evening, I do hope you come by again soon, R.” He looked up, grinning. “You got a  _ secret lover,  _ Elric?” 

Edward flushed to the tips of his ears and scrambled up the stairs to snatch the card, but Greed held it infuriatingly out of reach. 

“Hand it over you ass, I  _ will  _ punch you!” He demanded. Greed laughed and relinquished the card, as well as the basket. As it turned out, it contained a small pot, with the sprouts of some unknown plant poking out of the dirt. 

“Quit touching my shit!” 

“You know those words are wasted on me, buddy,” he said. Ed didn’t bother gracing him with a response. He just stormed past him and up the stairs, wishing that the red would fade from his face.

* * *

 

_ “At this point, I’m not even gonna bother lecturing you,”  _ Al said, sitting down on the couch and setting the bowl of warm, soapy water in his lap. Ed carefully inspected the blister that had ripped open on his inner thigh, grimacing. 

_ “You shouldn’t push yourself so hard Edward, I can take care of you Edward, blah blah blah,”  _ Ed muttered, grabbing a cloth, dipping it in the water and gently dabbing the tender area with a wince. 

_ “Wow, it’s almost like I have a clone,” _ Al muttered sarcastically. Ed elbowed him, and then laid the wet cloth against the blister, protecting it for the time being. He scooted back on the couch and propped his feet against a suitcase they had yet to put away, sighing deeply. Now that he was all relaxed, the aches and pains of the day had time to really settle into his bones. 

_ “Motherfucking fuck shit god damn,”  _ he gritted. 

_ “No luck today, I suppose?”  _ Al consoled, patting Ed gently on the shoulder.  Ed shook his head, scratching his nose irritably. He could always try again tomorrow. He could go two miles in the  _ other  _ direction instead. It would be infinitely more miserable with the blister, but he’d try to pad it as much as possible. 

_ “By the way, where’d the plant come from?”  _ Al asked out of the blue. Ed tensed, and tossed a look at the pot, which now sat in the windowsill, damp with a recent watering. 

_ “Uh, a beggar was selling them. I figured, why not,” _ he said gruffly. Al gave him a long, uncomfortable look, before shrugging a little. The note from Roy was burning a hole in his pocket.

_ “If that’s the story you want to go with. I like it anyways, it brings a little class to the room,” _ he said.  _ “I can’t wait to see what kind of plant it will turn out to be.” _

_ “Yeah, yeah,” _ Edward muttered gruffly. 

The brothers went through their nightly routine, bid each other goodnight, and fell asleep with a somber air about them.

* * *

 

“No, sorry, we’re not hiring.”

“Of course you’re not,” Ed muttered, earning him a squinty look as he left the shop without bidding the manager goodbye. By day three of unsuccessful job hunting, his patience was wearing thin, and he needed to have enough to greet the  _ next  _ person who could possibly (but probably not) give him a job. No use screwing himself before he got in the door, though. 

Ed wrinkled up his nose as he remembered the man that liked to linger in the lobby of his apartment. He always wore the same newsboy cap, the same shitty smile and always gave a shitty little wave on his way out. Ed had half a mind to punch him in the face, but that was a fight he was more than likely going to lose. 

Agh,  _ god,  _ he needed to stop thinking about shit that pissed him off. Edward shuffled down the street, head ducked, trying to focus on nothing but the next shop sign. Wait, that one was familiar _ — _

While he was looking at the front entrance of the Madame Christmas Jazz Lounge, the man smoking out front caught his eye. He offered a slanted grin and a two fingered wave. 

“Hey, Ed, was it?” He said

Ed paused and stepped closer, out of the flow of foot traffic. 

“Yeah. Havoc?” He said slowly, rolling the word in his mouth hesitantly. His accent tended to butcher names sometimes, but Havoc didn’t jump to correct him so he assumed it wasn’t too bad. 

“The one and only. Seems a little early for you to be around these parts, happy hour doesn’t start until four,” he laughed around a mouthful of smoke. Ed missed whatever joke he had just thrown, but huffed a little anyways. 

“No, I’m just passing through. Looking for a job,” he said. Havoc hummed in understanding and took a long drag on his cigarette before crushing the butt under the heel of his shoe. 

“Wanna come inside for a bit? Ice water is free for friends of the boss,” he said with a wink. Ed didn’t know what to make of that. But the words “ice” and “water” were sounding very appealing, so when Havoc held the door open for him, he took up the offer. 

Even at midday, the place didn't look much different. It still had the same jazzy atmosphere, with soft music and twinkling lights. The sunlight that streamed through the windows gave the place a warm, inviting look and Ed vaguely wondered why he thought this place served  _ cheap  _ liquor. This looked like the kind of place that had hidden bottles of 100-year-old wine that you had to pay a fortune to just sniff. 

Ed slid onto a bar stool and Havoc was quick to push a glass of ice water down the bar towards him. Ed nodded his thanks and chugged it. It felt like it had been years since he'd had a cold, refreshing glass of water. All the water here tasted weird after being raised on the stuff his mother would haul up from the old well. Havoc let him sit in silence for a little bit, Ed sighing a little as the ache drained out of his tired feet. 

“What kinda job you looking for?” Havoc questioned, raising an eyebrow as he began rhythmically wiping out glasses and returning them to the shelves. Ed shrugged a little. 

“At this point, I'll take anything that will work for a guy with a wooden leg.” He patted the the thigh of the aforementioned limb and then took another long sip of water. “Also, fuck basements. Amestris has  _ terrible  _ plumbing.” 

Havoc let out a surprised bark of laughter. 

“What, afraid of some leaky pipes?”

“I'm afraid of getting  _ sick  _ from those leaky pipes. Dark, warm, and wet means mold and mold makes you sick,” Ed said in a matter-of-fact way. Havoc’s eyebrow raised a little. 

“Hm... didn’t know that,” he said, giving the glass he was cleaning a pensive look. 

More silence descended, broken only by the gentle chatter of the few patrons of the lounge hanging around this early in the day. Havoc served two customers and then turned back to Ed to pour him more water. 

“Well, good luck with the job hunting,” he said, shrugging a little and offering a sympathetic smile. “This city’s pretty rough sometimes. Just know that you've got a friend in me and Mustang.” He offered a small salute and then shuffled over to a fancily dressed older woman, flirty smile in place. Ed glanced down at his water, puzzling. He had a friend in Mustang? The thought was ludicrous. Probably just smooth talk to ensure his continued patronage there. He needed to stop being dumb and hit the streets again. 

Ed drained the rest of his water and slipped off the stool, taking a moment to adjust his leg. 

_ He had a friend in Mustang.  _

Ed rolled his eyes up towards the ceiling.  _ God why am I always full of bad ideas?  _ Ed bemoaned to himself. He turned and caught Havoc’s eye, in the middle of him pouring a glass of scotch. 

“Hey, uh... if you see Roy later...”  _ Don’t do it, stupid, don't do it.  _ “Tell him I said hey.”  _ Fuck.  _

Havoc grinned a little and nodded. 

“Sure thing, kid.” 

Ed zeroed in on him with a poisonous glare. 

“Don't call me kid.” 

That only made Havoc let out a loud bark of laughter.

* * *

 

Ed took his time walking back to his apartment. The sun was beginning to set, and he kept his eyes on his long shadow as he shuffled along. He was tired and  _ so damned hungry.  _ He hadn’t taken any money at all that day to keep the temptation to buy something away. 

So lost in thought was Ed that he didn’t realize his feet had taken him past CCU until the sidewalk suddenly became a lot cleaner and the normal oppressive stench of the city lessened. God, he shouldn’t look at it, because it would just make him sad. 

He looked up anyways. 

_ Uggghhhhh.  _

The magnificent architecture of the place looked even better with the setting sun lighting it up from behind, stretching shadows across the lawn. People were milling through the winding sidewalks; better dressed people, with money and privileges that Ed could barely even dream of having now. 

The ache in his chest was suddenly so fierce that it made it difficult to breathe. 

He had been  _ so close.  _ So close to those big classrooms and dusty chalkboards and the smell of old books. To studying until it felt like his brain was melting out his ears, to that  _ fantastic  _ satisfied feeling when he got papers back with a big fat A on them. So close to being able to... to  _ do something,  _ to change the world, to have his name taught in classrooms for decades into the future. 

But now he was stuck in a weird limbo. Not quite poverty-stricken, not nearly rich enough to attend a school like  _ Amestris,  _ just... a tiny gear in the huge working-class machine. Insignificant. Invisible.

It wasn’t f-- 

Edward pursed his lips, cursing his pitiful attitude.  _ Life  _ isn’t fucking fair, it was time to get used to it.

* * *

 

Ed limped into the Madame Christmas Jazz Lounge, grumpy, but with no idea why he was there. He didn't have any  _ money _ , it's not like he could-- 

Ed quickly spotted Roy's sharp clothes and coal dark hair at one of the booths, alone, head turned up at he talked with Havoc. Before Ed could let his own lack of social skills get the better of him, Havoc noticed him and his eyebrows lifted in amusement. He nodded in Ed's direction and Roy turned around, instantly catching Ed's gaze. His face lit up with a smile and he beckoned Ed over. 

Flushing, Ed complied with a grumble. 

"Edward," Roy said, gesturing to the seat across from him. "I was wondering when you were going to show up." Ed shrugged a little, sliding into the booth and readjusting his leg in relief. Roy waved his hand at Havoc, who rolled his eyes but disappeared anyways. 

"Been busy. Job hunting," he said. Roy hummed and circled his fingers around the scotch that sat in front of him. 

"So I heard. No luck today?"

Ed shook his head. It felt somewhat weird, sitting here and chatting about the mundane with what he thought was going to be a one night stand. 

But then Roy did that gay shit, and now Ed was attached, so he might as well run with it. Just then, Havoc reappeared and set a whiskey sour down in front of Ed, who flashed him a grateful half-smile. 

At least he was getting free drinks out of this. And good sex. 

He flushed at the thought. God, Amestris was corrupting him already, his brain already focused on alcohol and sex. This was what Granny Pinako had  _ warned him about _ \--

"That's unfortunate." 

Roy's voice cut through his thoughts like a silver knife. 

"I don't supposed getting drunk would solve anything?" Roy joked, nudging him a little. Ed chuckled a little and tipped his glass up, taking a sip of the whiskey sour he was growing to enjoy quite a bit. 

"Mm, not really. I can't really be hungover while trying to get somebody to hire a man with one leg tomorrow. And I don't exactly have the most  _ winning  _ personality at the best of times," he said. Roy laughed, and Ed's heart skipped a beat. 

Bad sign, very bad sign. 

"I disagree, you seem  _ incredibly  _ charming," Roy said. Ed glanced up at him (because even sitting down, the motherfucker was taller than him) and squinted a little. 

"Was that a joke, Roy?" He said, his lips curling up. Yeah, Roy was attractive and had money, but if he was also kind of a shithead, then Ed might be in trouble. 

"Maybe." 

Ed sighed and sipped at his drink a little, letting the silence descend over them a little. He wondered idly what to talk about. Wondered if he even  _ should  _ talk about anything. Was this how these things worked? He had no idea, Edward Elric has never been on a single date in his life.

Ed's stomach decided that it was the perfect moment to start screaming for food. Ed immediately felt his face catch fire, and he tried to drown it in alcohol. Roy smiled, his starlight eyes dancing with amusement.

"Ed, have you eaten anything today?" He asked. Ed frowned and glared down at the table. 

"I had breakfast," he muttered defensively. Roy raised an eyebrow. 

"Ed, it's seven at night."

"Your point?" Ed said stubbornly, crossing his arms. "I was gonna eat something when I got home."

"But instead you're here?" Roy asked. Ed frowned.

"Yes?"

"Gracing me with your charming presence."

"Roy, I swear..." 

Roy suddenly let out a peal of laughter. 

"I feel honored. Do you want to go somewhere to get something to eat?" He asked. Ed blinked. Then schooled his expression and shrugged a little, glancing to the side. 

"I mean, if you're buying," he mumbled. 

"Great!" Roy smiled and immediately pushed himself out of the booth. Ed followed after him, already regretting his decision to walk around more.

"Where are we going?" He asked as Roy held the door open for him. Roy smiled a little let the door swing shut behind them, sticking his hands in his pockets to ward off the chill.

"It's close," was all he offered. 

Ed sniffed irritably at the cryptic statement, but retreated into his thoughts instead of picking a fight. He worried about his clothes and his limp, hoping that it wouldn't be some nice food joint that would wrinkle its nose at people like him.

As it was, Ed's fears were completely fruitless. Roy lead him just down the street,  towards a man in a cart, just beginning to clean up. Roy walked up and greeted the man with a wave and a smile. 

"Mr. Mustang!" The vendor blurted, quickly whipping off his hat. "What, ah, what can I do for you?"

"Hot dogs, two please," he said. The man nodded and quickly went to work, opening a small hatch and pulling out two weiners and placing them into buns. He pulled the ketchup and mustard containers from a cupboard underneath, and Roy did the food up all nice and wrapped it in paper. He thanked the man, paid him, tipped him, and then turned around to Ed. 

"Do they have hot dogs where you're from?" He asked, handing over the hot dog. Ed stared down at it, slightly baffled that he was actually going to be eating this. 

"Uh, no," he said. "Not even remotely."

"Well, consider this your first  _ Amestrian meal _ ," Roy said, and then took a big bite out of his. Ed considered how he should go about eating this drippy, red and yellow monstrosity. Then he decided  _ fuck it _ , he was too hungry to think about it. 

He supposed for something that can be whipped together on the street, it was okay. Definitely not the best thing he's ever eaten, but it was also the first thing he's had in hours so it was pretty damned good. 

Roy nodded his head towards a small ledge under a window nearby, and Ed plopped down on it to fully enjoy this weird Amestrian concoction and Roy joined him. 

"So..." Ed said through a rather large bite. He swallowed, wiped some ketchup from the corner of his mouth. and looked at Roy. "Can I ask what your goal is?" Roy paused, his expression carefully neutral, and then he tilted his head. 

"...Pardon?" 

Ed glanced down at his hot dog thoughtfully. 

"This... whole thing. I'm not stupid, I know what I am, what I look like. Some... dirty...  _ zitiános _ ," he said, struggling to find the words in Amestrian. "I mean, if you just want to fuck again, fine, but at this point it kind of feels like... pity? Is that the word?" He glanced up again to see Roy staring out at the street, chewing thoughtfully and watching as the occasional car puttered by. 

"Hmm... That's a good question. Would it be enough to say that I just enjoy your presence?" He said with a cheeky smile. 

"Fuck you."

Roy laughed and finished off his hot dog, licking stray ketchup off his fingers and brushing crumbs off his lap. He was quiet for a moment, as if considering his next words. 

"I... hear about you. Around. I have quite a few birdies whispering in my ear, and you're a surprisingly popular subject," he said eventually. Ed paused, the tail end of his hot dog halfway to his mouth. 

"Sorry,  _ what? _ " He blurted. 

"You started a fist fight with a guy harassing one of Madame Christmas's workers? You gave food to Griselma?" He said, confused as if he didn't understand why Edward didn't consider these events important. He opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again. 

"You got scammed by some miserable jackass at Amestris." 

Ed stiffened and shot Roy a glare. 

"So it  _ is  _ pity, isn’t?" He said coldly. Roy picked at some lint on his pants. 

"On the contrary, I couldn’t care less about that. I would’ve treated you the same regardless of how much or little money you have. You’re a genuinely interesting person, and obviously incredibly intelligent. I was looking for fun, and I found it and  _ continue  _ to find it in you,” he said. When he looked at Ed, his face was stunningly serious, and Ed could almost convince himself he was being genuine. Ed grunted and finished off his hot dog, which had gone cold.

“So, what, you looking for more  _ “fun”  _ tonight?” He said eventually. Roy shrugged, a crooked smirk pulling at his lips. 

“If you’re amenable.”

Ed groaned, rolling his eyes so hard, his head bumped gently against the window behind him. 

“You’re  _ lucky  _ you’re handsome.” 

Roy laughed again, and Ed realized he was kind of, sort of, maybe screwed _. _

* * *

 

It was late by the time Ed made it back to his apartment building. He walked with a bit of a stumble because his head was still fucking  _ spinning.  _ Roy had yanked him toward a dark, empty alley and kissed him stupid, leaving nothing but arousal and adrenaline from the fear of being caught.  _ God,  _ Roy had the most unfair talent of setting his whole body on fire with barely even the tips of his fingers.

_ Stop thinking about it, dumbass.  _

It was difficult. 

He supposed that if this...  _ whatever it was  _ with Roy was going to be a regular thing, he didn’t really mind. There’s was always the possibility of it blowing up horribly in his face, but he was pretty much at rock bottom already, right? 

Basically. 

Alphonse wouldn’t be home for awhile yet, and Ed was kind of thankful for that. He knew Al would never live it down if he came home reeking like sex with ketchup on his pants. 

Ed rubbed his forehead wearily, the weights of the world settling back onto his shoulders. He couldn’t wait to go home and collapse into bed and let the void of unconsciousness consume him. 

He slowed down when a jolly, rhythmic whistling reached his ears. The tune was vaguely familiar, each beat accompanied by the clink of glass on concrete. As Ed approached the building, he noticed the mysterious hatted stranger that had been passively harassing him for the past several days sitting on the steps, a nondescript bottle held loosely in his fingers. He glanced up at Ed as he approached, the whistling coming to an abrupt stop. The silence that flooded in felt vaguely menacing. He offered a serene smile, though Edward felt mildly threatened. 

An angry, impulsive part of him swelled up and, for the first time in their entire history of interaction, Edward paused and considered him.  _ Only  _ considered. Ed was quickly learning that nobody in this city did anything out of the kindness of their hearts. But...

Life isn’t fair. Maybe he should do something other than letting it fuck him over. 

“What’s the catch?” 

The man’s smile widened, and he set the bottle to the side with a sharp  _ clunk.  _

“I’m  _ very  _ glad you asked, my friend.”


	4. In a World of Magnets and Miracles...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, sorry for the long wait guys, school has been kicking my ass (as per usual) and also my home life took a bit of a nose dive orz 
> 
> On that cheerful note, if anyone wants to [commission me](http://spud-scribbles.tumblr.com/post/166557541269/the-potato-draws-commissions-are-open-you-can) for artwork, I'd greatly appreciate it! Anyways, ONTO THE GAY!

This was...

An obscene amount of money.

Even _before_ Ed and Al had left Xerxes for Amestris, they didn't have this much.

Ed’s eyes snapped back up to the passive aggressive newscap man, who was now better known as Damiano.

"What kind of trick is this?" Ed spat, handling the paper envelope of cash as if it would spontaneously combust any second now. There's no way some-- some _shady street rat_ could magic up this much money. It was either fake or stolen and Ed was in a whole world of hurt for even looking at it.

"It's no trick. You know of the mafia, yes?" Damiano said, rocking a little on the balls of his feet.

"M... mafia?" Ed sounded out slowly, wracking his brain for any possible translation for that but coming up short. Damiano blinked a little in surprise.

"You know, like a gang. Criminals." Gang _. Symmoría._ Ed's hands got very sweaty, but the rest of him remained carefully in control. Of course there were gangs here, or _mafia_ as they were apparently known. After all, Izumi had her own little circle of not-so-law-abiding pals. In fact, half the money they had earned came from her.

"What do I owe this-- the mafia? You're not happy with me just paying you back," Ed said, brows pinched and voice tight. Damiano shrugged a little, an innocent grin on his stupid face.

"You pay us back a little extra and you owe us a favor. You know. Whenever we decide to cash it in," he said as if this whole thing was a simple trade instead of some highly illegal affair.

"How _much_ is 'a little extra'?" Ed snapped. _God_ he was tired of this fucker dancing around in circles.

"Twenty percent."

The math clicked into place easily in his head.

"Two hundred dollars? Absolutely not. You can take your stupid fucking money and shove it," Ed clipped, and then shoved it back into Damiano's hands. Damiano looked down at it and then up at Ed, eyebrows raising into the pink bandana that wrapped around his head under the newsboy cap. Then he sighed and reached a hand around to the waistband of his pants and Ed stiffened.

"Listen, buddy, it's not like you have to take all the money in the envelope. Twenty percent is twenty percent, doesn’t matter of what, but I can't just have you _walking away_ from somethin' like this," Damiano said, and suddenly the smile was gone and the gun was no longer in the waistband of his pants; instead, loosely gripped in his hand, finger resting on the trigger. Not pointing, but the message was clear. Ed's blood ran cold and curses were flying haywire through his brain. Of course, of fucking _course_ his god damned motherfucking curiosity would get him shot in some dark, smelly alley.

"Of course I can't. Give me that," he muttered, and then snatched the envelope back. He pulled out the enormous wad of cash and started counting out the bills. He took $300 and then shoved the envelope back at Damiano.

"There, now I can't go to the police because I've got your dirty money. Happy?" He growled, pocketing the money. Damiano looked at the envelope and then put the gun back where it belonged-- not pointing at Ed.

"Very," he said, shitty smile back in place. Ed wished he could just fucking deck him. He felt like that would be very therapeutic at the moment.

"We'll be expecting our money back within the next few months. We're not a fan of tardiness, so do keep that in mind, pal," Damiano said. He gave a lazy two-fingered salute and then turned around and stalked off down the alley. Ed watched him go, his temper bubbling in his gut. Then he sighed, his shoulders slumped and he turned and shuffled in the opposite direction.

Despite the fact that he was now indebted to a Vaguely Threatening Criminal Organization, the money in his pocket was practically singing at him. And he couldn’t help but listen.

He could afford the class fees at CCU with this. For him _and_ his brother.

By the time Ed got home, it was ridiculously late at night and the apartment was dark; Al had long since gone to sleep.

Ed took the money out of his pocket and dropped it into their hidden money jar. He didn't want to wake up Al and freak him out with a mysterious wad of money, so he did what he always did: left it for a problem for Tomorrow Edward. That Edward had more sleep and food in him and had a higher tolerance for bullshit.

Ed stripped out of his pants, unbuckled his prosthetic, and flopped on the couch. He was out cold in seconds.

* * *

 

_"Edward, what the FUCK."_

Ed snorted a little a jerked awake, pinching his eyes irritably against the sun that was starting to stream through the windows. He blinked a few times, adjusting to the light, and then craned his head back to stare at Alphonse. He stood in front of their money jar, wearing a hilariously flabbergasted look; the look of a man who was too scientifically-oriented to believe in miracles but was unsure of what to make of what his eyes were seeing.

 _"It's a loan,"_ Ed said, his face splitting open in a wide yawn. "We got a couple months to pay it back, but I pulled some strings with a friend of mine."

Al's dubious look turned on Ed so suddenly he flinched.

_"Brother, you don't have friends."_

Ed had never felt more betrayed in his entire _life_.

 _"What the fuck? I absolutely do too!"_ Ed shot back, shooting up on the couch to give Al a proper Brotherly Glare. Al looked between the jar and Edward for several seconds.

 _"Is this... actually real? I'm not dreaming?"_ He said eventually, tightly. Ed tilted his head a little.

_"Yeah? I mean, unless we're both on some weird trip, that's-- OOF!"_

Al, faster than he could blink, had launched himself onto the couch and was now bouncing and violently shaking Ed by the shoulders.

 _"Edward! We can attend Amestris!"_ He shouted. _"WE'RE GOING TO SCHOOL!"_

Ed couldn't help the huge grin that spread across his face. It was difficult to worry about the Vaguely Threatening Criminal Organization when one of the most important people in the world to him was _this_ happy. But Al was still shaking him and the threat of getting whiplash was very real.

 _"Al! For fuck’s sake, calm down!”_ He said, but the anger in his voice was ruined by the fact that his laughter bubbled through.

Things were going to be... okay.

Maybe.

For now.

* * *

 

Orientation was, unsurprisingly, _enormous._

The canopies were out in full force again, just like pre-orientation that now seemed like it had been forever ago. This time, instead of just freshmen snagging early spots for classes, clubs and student organizations had swarmed the areas, trying to stake their claim on all the fresh meat milling around.

Despite the supposed chaos of the canopies, Ed and Al were swept through a surprisingly organized path with almost military efficiency and the lines, though long, moved steadily. They passed through the boring bits in a distracted daze, pulling out acceptance letters, high school diplomas from Xerxes, visas, and, of course, money (not without a stabbing pulse of anxiety). After being given matching blue tags and empty schedules, they were set loose into the inner maze.

 _That’s_ where it got fun. Both brothers followed hasty, hand drawn signs to where it said the science booths were located, and then split off like hyperenergetic kids in a candy store. Alphonse made a beeline for the biology booths-- because of course Ed’d  sweet, kind, little brother, who had more love in his tailbone than most people had in their whole bodies, wanted to be a doctor.

Edward aimed his attention in the row past the biologists to the physicists. He was aiming a little bigger.

While Alphonse wanted to touch hearts, Edward wanted to touch stars. To peel apart the secrets of the universe and try to understand where they came from, and where they’re going. His curiosity was a burning pit in his gut, and it would eat him alive if he didn’t find ways to temper it.

Fortunately, here were a whole lot of people who wanted to help him out with that.

It felt almost like an out of body experience, watching his course schedule slowly be filled up with numbers and signatures of approval. Everything sort of... hit him at once.

He was in Amestris. Signing up for classes at Central City U. He had his own apartment and annoying neighbors and his brother by his side and _wow could life actually be going kind of okay?_

To be fair, he was only here because of money borrowed from a dubious loan and he was sleeping with an ambiguous, older guy.

Amestris was  _wild._

* * *

 

"Pencils?"

"Yes."

"Schedule?"

"Yes."

"Books?"

"Al, I'm gonna deck ya if we don't get going!" Ed snapped, but instead of admonishing him for his manners, Al only let out a bubbly giggle. His Amestrian was rapidly improving, now that they were using it on a daily basis, and Ed didn’t know how to feel about losing the ability to curse enthusiastically without being scolded. Well, even without knowing the words, Al had a sixth sense for when Ed was saying something dirty. It was a curse.

The trolley ride seemed incredibly long and Ed's leg was bouncing incessantly. Al swatted him, but even _he_ couldn’t contain his nervous energy; his fingers still drummed persistently upon his knee.

Okay, so maybe their first day jitters were a little stronger than usual...

They practically fell out of the trolley before it even came to a full stop and they soon joined a small flood of students milling around, some lounging on the grass, some sitting under the cherry trees.

Ed and Al made a beeline for the school, eager to explore. They hadn't gotten to take a tour due to the lateness of their registration, so it was now up to them to find their way around the massive campus. The ceilings were high, everything polished to an impeccable shine, and Ed pulled at his shirt collar nervously.

"Should we find your classes first?" Al asked. Ed shook his head.

"No, you first."

They stuck close as they glanced at signs and school maps, trying to decipher the jumbles of letters and numbers. The sheer _scale_ of campus was intimidating.

Al's first class, Intro to Biology, was held in a huge lecture hall, with a chalkboard already covered in scribbles of molecules and very intricate diagrams of cells. Al's eyes were _sparkling_.

"Brother, this is so cool," he whispered, head craning to take in the full expanse of the room.

"You're such a nerd," Ed shot back. Later, when he audibly breathed a low "holy shit" while taking in the chemistry lab, Al gave him the most smugly infuriating look.

Ed elbowed him and Al let out another one of his nervous giggles.

"Students? Did the bell toll?"

Ed and Al nearly jumped out of their skin. A man they hadn't previously noticed, elderly, with round glasses and a cane, stood up from a large desk in the corner.

"Ah, no, we were just taking a look around. We didn't get to see the campus because we missed orientation, so we thought we'd--"

"Ah! Early then. I like your spunk," the man interrupted with a wide, toothy smile. "Do I get the pleasure of having both of you here in biochemistry?"

Ed shook his head at the same time Al replied with, "no, just me, sir." The old man let out a loud guffaw and stamped his cane on the ground.

"Away with that sir nonsense, my name is Professor Grumman," he said, choosing that moment to hobble over and stick out a gnarled hand to Alphonse. "I look forward to teaching you... er..." Al jumped and clasped Grumman's hand, shaking it enthusiastically.

"Alphonse Elric, Professor."

The professor let out more crackling laughter and returned his hand to its place upon the cane.

"What an odd name. I think we'll get along swimmingly, Alphonse," Grumman said. Al nodded, bid his goodbyes, and both brothers exited the room. The moment the door shut behind him, Al was gushing, slipping back into Xerxian out of excitement.

_"He was so nice, I really hope he's a good teacher. I really hope I can do well in his class too... Brother, what if I don't live up to expectations? What if I annoy him with questions? What if I'm super behind already and--"_

"Alphonse!"

Al fell silent, and Ed offered a crooked smile to soften the snappish tone.

 _"You'll do fine._ We'll _do fine. Stop worrying."_ Al sucked in a deep breath and gave his cheeks a sharp slap.

_"You're right, you're right. Let's go see your classrooms, I think your chemistry class is down this way..."_

* * *

 

After meeting Grumman, Ed's spirits were high. The professors, so far, had lived up to his expectations of a high-ranking school like this one: pleasant, intelligent, eager to teach.

Of course, Ed's luck had always been piss poor compared to Al's, and when they passed by the classroom for Intro to Quantum Physics, the door was thrown open with enough force that when it knocked into Ed’s prosthetic, it was swiped clean out from under him. He went sprawling to the floor, books and pencils scattering everywhere.

“Brother!”

Ed needed a second to inflate his lungs, the wind _thoroughly_ knocked clean out of him, but once they did--

"What the _hell_?!" He snapped, groaned as he forced himself up into a sitting position, head spinning from the rapid shift from vertical to horizontal and back again.

"Oh goodness, I'm incredibly sorry!" A voice, only describable as _enormous_ , boomed. Ed looked up-- and up, and _up_ until he met the shocking blue eyes of an _extremely_ bald man, who was leaning over in concern.

"Uhh..."

In a rare moment of sheer astonishment, words failed the great Edward Elric.

"You must be students! It is a little early for you to be here, is it not? I hope I haven't harmed you, young man." The man said, his voice entirely too loud for the large, echo-prone hallway. Almost as a side thought, he wrapped a hand around Ed's bicep and hauled him to his feet like a rag doll. Even standing up, Ed was positively miniscule next to him, and that was a fact that did make his whole state of "shocked, hurt, and indignant" any better.

"You're... large--"

Alphonse elbowed him sharply in the ribs.

"--ly unresponsible for what happened, I should have watched where I was going," Ed corrected lamely, and then shook his head to clear it. Alphonse dumped Ed’s things into his arms, and he was glad for the distraction. A sharp twinge radiated from the side of his head, and Ed realized he probably cracked it on the linoleum.

"No, no, I should not have thrown the door open with such force, it is my fault."

"Alex, I hope you're not assaulting students again," came a cold drawl from inside the classroom. Alex, who looked like he could have snapped a bear in half without breaking a sweat, had no business looking as nervous as he did at the sound of the cool,  feminine voice.

"Of course not, Olivier, what do you--"

"Classes start in ten minutes, get back to your own room," the voice snapped, and then there was a tall, equally terrifying woman standing in the doorway. Her hair was a bolt of pale gold across her face, and she was wearing a blazer over a neatly pressed white button up.

"What are you doing just dawdling around? Pick your jaws off the ground and get where you need to be going. CCU has no tolerance for tardiness," she said. Ed snapped his mouth closed and clenched the strap of his backpack. He turned to look at Alphonse for an escape, only to realize that at some point _the fucker had ditched him._

Great.

"Um, this is actually my first class, ma'am. I'm Edward Elric, I'm--"

"I know who you are. Despite your less than graceful entrance, I suppose something must be said for your punctuality." The woman turned and strode back into her classroom, a small lecture hall with about ten long rows of tiered desks and an enormous chalkboard.

"My name is Olivier Armstrong, you will address me as Professor and _only_ as Professor, and I lock my doors precisely at 8:15 so if you hope to pass my class, you better be in here before then," she said, returning to a desk planted squarely in the middle of the room and picking up a stack of textbooks. "Understood?"

"Understood," Edward parroted. Unwilling to say anything that could get him into trouble, Edward promptly took a seat in the second row of desks, near the center of the room and pulled out a notebook and a pencil.

Professor Armstrong said nothing as she flicked through textbooks, scribbled things on the chalkboard, and tapped her nails incessantly on any hard surface.

The thick silence was sliced neatly in half when the classroom door opened and another student walked in.

"Take a seat," Armstrong barked, and the kid was quick to skitter towards a seat in the back.

As the clock ticked closer and closer to the toll of the bell, student quickly began to flood into the classroom and claim seats for themselves.

One last kid darted through the door, and then bells began to ring and Armstrong placed her piece of chalk down and crossed to the door to close it.

" _Wait!_ Wait, wait, I'm coming, don't close it!" A voice called down the hallway. Heads turned to watched as a scrawny Xingese teenager practically dove into the classroom, his breath coming harshly and his long hair askew.

"Whew, just barely made it," he gasped, clutching his chest, which was clothed in an aggressively yellow and foreign-made shirt. Armstrong looked ready to kill something.

"Sit. _Down_ ," she ground out through gritted teeth. The boy didn't have to be told twice. Unfortunately, he didn't seem to even feel the waves of tension rolling through the room, and strode casually up the steps _right_ to Ed's area, plopping down right next to him.

Ed must have been born under the star of "fuck you" because he could have nothing good in life without an equal amount of bad slapping him in the face. Win a special enrollment to the best high school in his province, get his leg whacked off in a freak accident. Graduate top of his class, get the shit kicked out of him by Izumi. Finally make it to Amestris, get scammed out a ton of money. Miraculously be granted a second chance to attend the university of his dreams, have possibly the most annoying person in the _country_ sit next to him in his most difficult class.

Ed wasn't religious by any means, but he would definitely need some divine willpower to put up with this idiot.

* * *

 

Over the course of the 90 minute class, Ed had learned more about Ling Yao that he had ever wanted to know in his entire life, and _definitely_ more than he wanted to learn while simultaneously writing so fast it felt like his hand was going to fall off.

Like how Ling was a year older than him, he was _super_ into "space stuff," he'd moved here with his girlfriend, his favorite food is fried noodles, and also he sucks at taking notes so could you help me study?

Ed, who had been attempting to flee down the hall after the period had ended, stopped in his tracks and whirled towards Ling, who was smiling like an idiot, hands in his ugly yellow sleeves.

"I'm sorry, _what_?" Surely he couldn't be hearing this right.

"Could you help me study? I'm bad at taking notes but good at memorizing things I read," he said. Ed was baffled. He'd known the man for literally less than a day and he was already asking to be... _study_ _buddies_ or something. Was this how they did things in Amestris? Just bother people right off the bat? No social boundaries at all?

"No, I've got my own problems to deal with," Ed snapped brusquely. He turned and went to stalk off again.

"I'll pay you in food," Ling called after him.

Ed hated that he stopped.

He hated it even more that he turned around.

And he _especially_ hated the smug fucking look on Ling Yao's face.

* * *

 

Ed was still fuming about this interaction when he got out of his final class of the day and was waiting by the outer gates of the school for Alphonse.

"What's got you down, sourpuss?"

Ed made a face as he glanced up at Al from his position on the ground.

"What's a sourpuss?" He said.

"It means 'someone who's really grumpy.' I learned it from this girl in biochem," he said, holding out a hand to help Ed to his feet.

"Haha," Ed grumbled as he was yanked to his feet, brushing dirt off the seat of his pants. "You must feel so cool."

Al beamed smugly.

" _Very_ cool."

* * *

 

When the pair returned back to their apartment, there was another gift waiting in the lobby, and this time Ed couldn’t hide it from Al. By the time he noticed it, Al had already scooped up the envelope that was sitting on the table next to the box of sweets.

“Edward, it’s addressed to _you.”_

Oh no, the eyebrows, _the wiggly eyebrows._

Ed felt his face flush bright red and he snatched the letter and the box of chocolates from the counter. This needed to stop, before the whole building knew he was seeing someone and it blew way out of--

_“Seeing someone.”_

That sounded dangerously like...

Dating.

Deciding that he wasn’t ready for _that_ crisis, Ed stomped up the stairs and ignored Al’s delighted laughter.

“Brother, there’s no need to be _shy,_ it’s actually very sweet!”

“Shut up!”

He slammed the door to their apartment, mostly just to feel better about himself before Alphonse came barging in with all his questions and good intentions.

“This seems like it is more than just a one-time thing, brother,” Al said as he set his backpack down by the couch and moved to their tiny kitchen to started pulling out things for an early dinner. The damned flush in his cheeks just _wouldn’t go away_ and Ed wanted to sink into the couch and fade into oblivion because this was _not_ the conversation he wanted to be having with _Al_ of all people.

“Mind your own business, it’s just a-- actually no, I don’t want to explain this to you,” Ed said, squaring his shoulders and crashing down onto the couch with his back to Alphonse, pulling some assignments out of his bag. There was a hum from the other side of the room.

“I believe they call it a ‘fling’ here,” Al piped up. Ed gave him the stink eye over his shoulder.

“You sure are learning a lot of slang,” he commented. Al shrugged and poured some rice into a pot and put the lid over it.

“Mei’s really nice,” was all he said in the way of explaining.

“Well, it’s a _fling,_ and that’s all it is. So bugger off,” he said, trying to comprehend the words he’d scrawled in his notebook. His workload wasn’t exactly huge that night, but there was nothing wrong with getting a head start.

“Do _they_ know it’s a fling?” Al mused.

Ed felt his shoulders tense up and he knew this was a conversation he would not be avoiding anytime soon.

“... Fuck off,” he mumbled, no actual heat behind his words.

Too late, his thoughts were already spiralling.

 _Did_ Roy know that this was just a... “fling” or whatever Al had called it? Ed thought about the small gifts he had been receiving and realized that he _definitely_ needed to sort this out. Before he jumped to all the wrong conclusions and popped his very fragile bubble of relative happiness.

Ed shoved his books back in his bag and flung himself off the couch.

“I’m going to the library,” he blurted, and then grabbed his keys off the table and bolted.

Al was even nice enough to not call him on his bullshit.

* * *

 

Ed shouldered open the door to _Madam Christmas_ and automatically searched about for the familiar head of dark hair. The lighting was dim, and there was less chatter than usual, but there was Roy, sitting in his usual booth with his usual posse of friends around him. There was a new one as well, a stocky, older woman wearing expensive furs and a sour grimace.

Deciding that he didn’t want to mess with that just yet, Ed made his way over to the bar where Havoc greeted him with a crooked, smoky grin.

“Good evening, loyal customer,” he said, tapping ashes off his cigarette into a crystal ashtray. Ed wrinkled his nose a little at the title; being a regular at a bar was not quite the way he imagined spending his time, but here he was, for better or worse.

“Hm,” he grunted, and pulled a quarter out of his pocket and flicking it onto the counter.

“What a pleasant attitude,” Havoc said with a chuckle. “Whiskey?”

“Yeah. Classes at CCU started today, and my professors are terrifying,” he said. Havoc’s eyebrows vanished up into his hairline as he popped open the cap on a bottle of liquor.

“ _CCU?_ That big old fancy place?” He said. Ed nodded and curled his fingers around the glass as soon as Havoc placed it down in front of him.

“Big, expensive, full of crazy geniuses,” he muttered, tipping the glass into his mouth and taking a small sip. Havoc whistled softly around his cigarette.

“Well, congrats on getting in there, I know it’s super competitive,” he said, before another customer at the end called him away, leaving Ed with his illegal alcohol and his thoughts. His fingers tapped gently against the glass as he pondered on how he would bring the conversation up with Roy.

There _was_ a chance that he’d be offended at the notion that Ed didn’t need or have time for an actual _thing._ That this whole thing would end tonight. _Poof._

Ed didn’t realize he’d drained his glass until he was catching nothing but droplets, and he mourned the loss. He wished he had more money, because _if_ it blew up, that meant no more free drinks.

At least, that’s what Ed was trying to convince himself he’d miss most.

He rubbed his temples and rested his forehead on the counter. He wished his brain would just shut the hell _up--_

“Rough day?”

Ed turned his head a little to watch as Roy settled into the stool next to him with a sigh. Already, this was becoming routine and that’s exactly what needed to... not happen. Ed sighed and sat back up, exchanging his forehead for his elbows.

“Long day. The fall semester at CCU just started,” he said.

“Central City U? I went there, couple years ago,” Roy said offhandedly, waving at Havoc for a drink. He pointed at Ed’s drink and Havoc refilled that too. Ed frowned as he stared at the liquid as it swirled and then settled. Silence settled between them and Ed was grateful.

And yet... disconcerned. How they just seemed to _click._ Like puzzle pieces falling into place. It was almost too _easy_ to just let himself fall into this weird routine of push and pull, just _knowing_ how the other will move. It’s bullshit, it _had_ to be bullshit; he’s known the man for barely two weeks for fuck’s sake.

“Hey, Roy, can I... talk to you? Seriously?” He asked. Roy’s head turned and his cheek cushioned itself in the palm of his hand, head tilting in a sign of attention,. He raised an eyebrow, a halfhearted smile curling at his lips. For the first time that night, Ed took a good look at his face.

He looked _tired;_ there were shadows under his eyes and his normally neat black hair was mussed from nervous fingers running through it multiple times. Briefly, Ed wondered if _now_ was the best time to bring something like this up.

_Nope, gotta nip this in the bud._

“About the-- the gifts you’ve been sending me,” he stammered, suddenly breaking eye contact and staring at his glass-- how was it half empty already?!

“Ah. Are they not to your tastes?” He asked. Ed shook his head quickly.

“No, no, it’s not that, it’s just... they’re sort of... _public_. And my apartment building is full of nosy assholes. Er, am I making sense?” Ed asked, glancing back up now that his cheeks didn’t feel so hot. Roy hummed and took a sip of his own drink.

“Plenty. I apologize for not consulting you about those, I hope I haven’t gotten you into any trouble,” he said with a soft smile. Ed wanted to bash his head into the counter: why did this man have to be so _fucking polite?_ He was going to die and the only person he could blame is himself. Ugh.

“No, none. I just... I mean, since I’m starting school now, I’m not gonna have much time for this stuff anymore. I know it was never really a serious matter, but I just thought I’d let you know,” Ed said, and he felt like an idiot with no control over his words. They just bubbled out of him, sounding foreign and juvenile. His eyes found Roy’s again, and the older man wasn’t quick enough to mask-- ah, there it was, _disappointment._

Fuck.

“Ah, I see,” he said. He drank again, this time draining the glass. “Well, I knew this wouldn’t be a permanent fixture in my life.” He shrugged a little and Ed wanted to curl up and eat his own words because yep, crash and burn, just as expected.

“It’s not like I _never_ want to do it again,” he blurted, like the self-destructive jackass he was. “Just-- less frequently.”

For the first time in their history, the silence that fell was awkward. Roy seemed to contemplate his words for a little bit, before turning to Ed with mischievous smirk.

“Well, since I’ll be deprived of your _wonderful_ company, would you mind me taking advantage of your time here tonight?” He said. Ed flushed to the tips of his ears, hands clenching around the glass.

“Yeah, sure.”

* * *

 

Later, when the sun had sunk completely below the horizon and the streetlights were being lit, Roy told Fuery to bring the car around again. Just like before, Roy opened the door for him, regarding him with sleepy eyes warm with booze and sex as he slid into the seat.

“See you later?” Ed said, an edge of hesitance in his voice. Roy smiled, and then reached forward and fixed a wayward strand of his golden hair.

“You know where to find me,” he said.

The door slammed and Ed hunkered down in his seat, face flaming. For some reason, that small gesture had felt more intimate than anything they’d done in a bar bathroom, and the fact made his heart ache. 


	5. ... The Ringing of the Division Bell Had Begun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, honesty time: I've kinda been stagnating on posting this because of my utterly batshit workload, but I AM FINALLY ON CHRISTMAS BREAK GUYS!! It's gonna be lit, trust me.

“So, Schrodinger’s Cat is the one where it’s both alive and dead at the same time, right?”

“Yes.”

“And that’s _not_ the same as the Many-Worlds Theory?”

“No, Schrodinger’s Cat is just the Copenhagen Theory put into more simple terms. Do you actually listen to _anything_ Professor Armstrong said?” Ed snapped irritably, lowering the book he was reading and scowling at Ling. Both were sitting on opposite ends of the couch, papers piled on the coffee table to Ed’s left.

Ling gave a wide, sheepish smile and shrugged.

“It’s not my fault she has she has the vocal range of a goat,” he said.

“What?”

“You know, all she does is _baaa baaa baaa,”_ Ling said, making a mocking gesture with his hand. Ed rolled his eyes and scribbled something down in his notebook.

“You’re actually an idiot,” he said, but he couldn’t deny that Armstrong’s rapid-fire lecturing did sometimes tend to blur into a long, monotonous speech. Ed sniffed and returned to his book; the day he told Ling he actually had a decent sense of humor is the day he ate his own prosthetic.

Just then, the front door was kicked open hard enough to make Ed flinch. His face pulled into a grimace as he watched Greed stroll right in, looking as cocky and self-assured as always.

“Afternoon, Pipsqueak,” he drawled. "You got anything to eat?" He lumbered over to their small kitchenette, as if this wasn’t somebody else’s apartment and he was technically a _guest_. Ed grunted irritably and flipped a page.

"Not anything you can have."

Greed, of course, gave no shits and pulled a potato out of a bag lying in the corner. After giving it a quick scrub in the sink, he came back to the couch and plopped himself squarely between Ed and Ling, squashing Ed's flesh foot in the process. Then, spitting in the face of God, he took a massive bite out of the _raw fucking potato._

"Greed what the actual _fuck?!_ " Ed grimaced, giving his shoulder a hard kick. Not that it hurt, or even _budged_ him, because Ed was 80% sure that Greed was made of metal or something. Greed gave a toothy grin and propped his feet up on the coffee table.

" _Whaaaaat?_ " He said, as if her hadn't just committed a heinous crime against food itself.

"That's a potato! That's a raw fucking potato!" Ed squawked, gesturing wildly.

"And?"

"You have to _cook_ potatoes!"

"Too lazy."

Ed's jaw was actually hanging open, because he couldn't believe what he was actually seeing with his own two eyes.

"I actually hate you, get out of my house," he finally snapped. Greed was still just chuckling, eating his-- _Ed's_ potato.

 _Raw_.

"Hey, no need to be so rude, Edward. You know, most of the nutrients in vegetables are lost when you cook them," Ling interjected, wagging his finger in a distinctly infuriating manner.

"Potatoes are nothing but STARCH--"

"Hell yeah, you tell ‘im," Greed said, and then gave Ling a solid high five.

Ed got the sinking feeling that a very dangerous pact had just been made between them. Dangerous, as in he was at high risk of actually stabbing himself if he had to deal with them _both_ for long periods of time.

Ed gave up on being able to study with Greed in the room and instead stood up and hobbled to the pitcher of water that sat on the shelf near the stove. Ling and Greed were already engaged in some stupid conversation, so Ed tuned them out in favor of pouring himself a glass of water and staring out the window.

While things were relatively pleasant (almost surreally so), Ed still couldn't get rid of the uneasy feeling in the pit of his gut. He needed to find a damned _job_ , and start saving to pay back that "loan." Lest he end up in a ditch somewhere. Or abandoned in a forest somewhere, covered in goat blood and left to the wolves, as Izumi was partial to.

Were there even any forests in Central City?

Ed sneered and set his glass down. He hated owing debts.

A loud snort interrupted his train of thought. He heaved a long suffering sigh and turned to see what bullshit Greed and Ling were up to this time.

They were sitting still and quiet. _Suspiciously_ quiet.

"What?"

"Nothing," they said in perfect unison. _SUSPICIOUS_.

"I'm gonna kick you out," he deadpanned.

Ling leaned over and whispered something in Greed's ear and he _lost it._ He doubled over, howling with laughter and Ling followed close behind. He felt his ears growing warm and he puffed up angrily.

"What?!" He repeated, shriller this time.

"Edward _Smellric_ ," was all Greed was able to wheeze, and it sent him into another fit of laughter, tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. Ed didn't know how to react.

"My name is not _Smellric!_ " He finally sputered. "Quit laughing, it's not even that funny!"

"Your face is so _red!_ How adorable!" Ling giggled, pointed, and Ed decided that he'd had enough suffering for one day.

"That's it! Out! Get out of my apartment!" Ed picked up his abandoned notebook and started swatting Greed over the head. He knew he was stuck with Ling at least until the next trolley came in thirty minutes, but splitting him and Greed up seemed like the best course of action at the moment.

Greed was still cackling as he was shooed out of the "Smellric Abode" (he got an extra hard swat for that) and Ed made sure to lock the door behind the jackass. He took a moment to rest his forehead on the door before turning to glare at Ling.

"You came up with that, didn't you?" He said. Ling blinked innocently at him over the glass he had swiped from the stove in the ten seconds Ed had taken his eyes off of him.

"Of _course_ not!" I wouldn't want to anger my favorite study buddy," he hummed, his lips curling into a smile.

"I'm your only study buddy."

"Which is precisely why I appreciate you so much."

Judging Ling to be at least 40% sincere (which seemed to be the most he could ever pull out of him at once), Ed let it go and shuffled back to the couch.

He returned his butt to his seat and there was a long, blissful moment of silence as both boys went back to doing homework.

"Sooo... is Greed around here like, _all_ the time, or--?"

"Ling, if you say one more word, I will rip off your leg and beat you with it."

"Fine, fine."

* * *

 

Ling had been long gone and night had fallen before Al was stumbling tiredly into the apartment, his head sticking to his forehead with sweat and the cuff of his shirt sleeve singed. Ed frowned and closed his book.

 _"Hey, you alright?"_ He said. Alphonse muffled a yawn and threw himself onto the spot where Ling had been bothering him hours before.

 _"Just tired. I had to cook_ and _wait today, because three of the chefs were out sick,"_ he said. Ed patted his leg sympathetically and Al's lips quirked into a small smile.

 _"I'm sorry, I'll find a job soon so you won't have to work so many hours,"_ he said, lips pursing into a thin line. Al waved his hand dismissively, and Ed felt a familiar swell of frustration in his gut.

_"It's fine, you're not in any rush--"_

_"Al, please. Stop with the-- just stop. You know that shit pisses me off,"_ Ed said, rubbing his forehead wearily, already exhausted from the conversation because they'd had it _a thousand times before._ Al's eyes hardened and he glared at Ed, arms crossing over his chest.

_"I'm just concerned about you, brother, I--"_

_"No! You're treating me like a child, and I can see it every time you look at me! It's been almost 8 years, Al, when are you gonna let it go?"_ He snapped, pushing himself off the couch and whirling around. Al hunched his shoulders and averted his eyes to the stove, looking every inch a petulant child.

 _"Can you blame me?_ " He muttered, almost mouthed it was so quiet.

_"What--?"_

_"I said_ can you blame me?!" Al snapped. _"If it hadn't been for me, we wouldn't be in this mess. If I hadn't--"_

 _"Don't START that shit again, I'm so tired of it! I'm tired of these arguments, I'm tired of being mad! Just let it be done! I've grieved, I've bitched, I've suffered, and now I want it to be_ done!" Ed threw his hands up in the air in exasperation. God, he hated this, hated _feeling_ like this--

Al's jaw jumped as he gritted his teeth and stood up. Ed expected more yelling, or the silent treatment, or for Al to go passive aggressively cook something. His mouth opened, at it seemed like more yelling would ensue, but then there was a furious round of pounding at their door, making both brothers jump.

"Shut the _FUCK UP_ , I'm trying to _SLEEP!"_ Came Envy's irritated snarl. Their feet stomped away, and Ed let out a long sigh. When Ed turned away from Al, the other Elric had already turned and was heading off towards the bedroom. Ed felt the balloon of anger in his chest pop and start fizzing out pathetically.

"Al--"

"Sleep on the couch," he snapped before Ed could get in an apology. Ed cursed under his breath, despite the fact that he had been expecting this outcome. He flicked off the lights and yanked the old blanket from the back of the couch. Once his prosthetic had been carefully removed, he threw himself down on it and stared up at the ceiling in the dark.

These fights felt like he was butting heads with a rock. Ed's desire to forget clashing with Al's bottomless guilt. Unstoppable force versus immovable object. Ed clicked his tongue and rolled over, the couch's unpleasant lumpiness already easy to block out after sleeping here so often.

* * *

 

The second week of school melted away, and then the third and fourth. After the third, Ed finally, _finally_ found a job at grocery store a good mile north of his apartment as a “finance manager.”

In other words, he spent several hours caged up in a dusty office, crunching numbers and counting money to make sure everything was in order. It was mind numbing, the pay was miniscule, and the dust made him sneeze until he thought his eyeballs would pop out, but it was something at least.

Ling also came over on a pretty frequent basis now, much to the disgruntlement of Ed. Because whenever _Ling_ was over, that meant _Greed_ would inevitably sneak his way into the apartment and pester them, for whatever fucking reason. He’d lounge on the chair, eat his food, and pick through his books and insult his choice in literature. Though Ed had noticed that his copy of Moby Dick had mysteriously gone missing, so he made a note to bitch at Greed about it later. Lately, he had grown mildly more tolerable, because against all expectations, he actually found a modicum of interest in listening to Ed and Ling recite quantum physics facts back and forth at each other.

Sometimes he even asked _questions._

Ed almost believed that he might actually, possibly, _maybe_ consider Greed a... _“friend”_ now.

_"They're doing each other."_

Ed spat his tea as Al took a seat across from him, calmly picking up his fork and beginning to dig into his boiled vegetables. He glanced up at Ed, raising an eyebrow and smirking to himself.

_"You couldn't tell?"_

Ed slumped in his chair, feeling as if he had been brutally betrayed by a brother-in-arms. And then he decided that he was fucking pissed and if Greed showed his face in their apartment one more time, he was going to punch him. Straight in the nose. Consequences be damned.

 _"That conniving motherfucker.”_ He blurted. _“That manipulative, sneaking, cheeky motherfucker!"_ Ed threw his hands in the air defeatedly. _“Our apartment is a hook up spot! I’m gonna be paranoid everytime I leave them alone now!”_

 _"I hear they call people like that_ snakes _here,"_ Al said, laughing at he shoved a forkful of carrots in his mouth. Ed frowned at Al.

_"More slang?"_

_"Mei's very good at it,"_ he said, shrugging, and giving a sly little grin.

_“I’m starting to feel like she’s a bad influence on you.”_

_“Not as bad an influence as ROY is, I’d say.”_

Al cackled delightfully as Ed grumbled irritably, face flushing, and picked up his own fork. The sight of the plain white rice and vegetables looking absolutely mouthwatering after a very, _very_ long day, and he couldn’t wait to stuff his face and fall asleep.

Oh, the two purest forms of happiness in life: eating and sleeping.

He had a pile of rice on his fork, heading right towards his mouth, when a polite knock came at their door.

Ed growled and slammed his fork back down on his plate.

"Piss off, Greed! I'm not feeding you!" Ed hollered. Al frowned at Ed.

"Greed doesn't knock," he said lowly, turning to peer at the door, as if suddenly suspicious of it. Ed blinked, realizing that Al was absolutely right.

"He's right," the person said through the door. "It's not Greed! It's me, your bud!"

Ed's eyebrow ticked.

Damiano.

"I'm eating, go away," he grumped.

"Sorry, but this is kind of important."

Ed's blood ran a little cold. He couldn't be here for the money, could he? They had barely saved a third of what they owed, he couldn't expect them to have so much in so little time--?

"I'm getting impatient," he called, his voice a little sing-songy, and infuriating Edward even more than he already was. Al reached out and touched Ed's arm.

"What does he want?" He whispered. "Ed, what's this about?" Ed pulled his arm away and stood up.

"Nothing, it's just the guy I borrowed money from," he said. Al's lips pursed.

"Should I--?"

"No, stay here."

Ed stalked over to the door and opened it, and Damiano grinned at him cheerfully from under his newsboy cap.

"Ah, there he is, Eddie-boy," he said. Ed snapped the door closed behind him and started walking off down the hall, knowing that Al was nosy enough to stand by the door and eavesdrop on their conversation if he didn't move. The walls were, after all, paper thin.

Damiano followed after him without question, and Ed didn’t stop until he had reached the end of the hallway, where he knew there to be an empty apartment.

“What do you want?” He demanded, whirling around. Damiano tucked one hand behind his back and Ed sneered and relaxed his posture, instead slumping against the wall.

“I assume you don’t have our money yet?” He said. Ed glared at him.

“What do you think? I’m making five dollars a week _and_ attending school. I can give you a hundred right now, if you want,” he said. Damiano shrugged and scuffed his foot.

“Nah, that ain’t gonna be enough. Come with me, boss wants to meet you.”

Ed blinked a little as Damiano turned and started walking away without any other prompting.

"Sorry, _what?"_ He said. "You expect me to just follow you to some unknown location at night, right in the middle of me eating dinner?" He said, completely indignant. Damiano looked over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow.

"That's exactly what I expect you to do. And you'd do well to listen to me."

Ed gritted his teeth, fingers curling into fists.

"Fine. Let me grab my jacket."

He turned on heel and marched back down the hall to his apartment. When he opened the door, Al was in the process of scrambling away from it, attempting to listen in just as Ed had expected. He looked decently ashamed, but definitely not enough to allow Ed to grab his jacket in peace.

 _"Where are you going? What's happened? Are we in trouble?"_ He said, mouth working a mile a minute. Ed clicked his tongue and threw the threadbare jacket over his shoulders. The cooler winds of autumn were already starting to blow over Central City, only growing worse at night.

_"No, I'm just going to meet with someone. I should be home in an hour or two, alright? Don't wait up for me, get some rest for tomorrow--"_

"Edward."

Ed stopped in the middle of grabbing his apartment key off the table. Something in Al's tone made him dread looking him in the eye. But he did. Al's gaze was steely, but it couldn't disguise the worry pressing lines between his brows.

 _"If we were in trouble, you'd tell me, right?"_ He said softly. Ed felt cold fingers wrap around his heart, but he forced a laugh somehow, shrugging.

_"Of course, you're my brother. Besides, you're always able to tell when I'm trouble, right?"_

Al didn't respond, only dropped his gaze to their dinner that had hardly been touched.

 _"Come home safe,"_ he murmured. Ed swallowed, nodded, and then ducked out the door, walking down to where Damiano was waiting at the end of the hall.

"No need for the emotional goodbyes," he said with a lighthearted laugh as they began to tramp down the stairs. "It's not like we're gonna dump your body in a pit or something."

Somehow, Ed wasn't reassured.

The pair headed out of the apartment building and down the street, hunched against a brisk wind that whisked leaves and litter across the concrete. They ducked through an alley, and Ed's brows drew together as he was taken into an unfamiliar area of town.

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

Ed clicked his tongue, diverting his gaze from Damiano's back to the buildings around him. He kept track of landmarks for-- uh, just in case.

Damiano lead them down another alley, but this time stopped in front of a heavy metal door. He gave it three quick knocks, then two slow ones and after a moment of silence, a lock was dragged and the door opened. Damiano took off his hat and gave a dramatic bow.

"Guests first," he said. Ed rolled his eyes, but strolled in anyways, trying to make himself look as nonchalant as possible despite the fact that he was a little bit terrified.

When he walked in, it was dim and there was a person seated in a chair immediately to the right; bulky, with short cropped red hair and a serious glower on his face. He gave Ed a once-over, and then jerked his head to a doorway, where most of the light in the room came from. He moved on, heart pounding in his chest.

Through the doorway was a hallway not much brighter than the back room he was in, with dark carpeting and a curtain separating them from what lay beyond. At this point, he could catch soft music coming from a phonograph. It was... vaguely familiar.

The unsettled feeling in his gut grew.

Ed glanced behind him at Damiano, and the man made a shooing motion with his hand. His smile was... strangely gleeful, and fuck if that didn't make his hair stand on end.

Tired of all this damned tension, Ed marched forward and tossed back the curtain. He blinked, and then blinked again, because--

This was Madam Christmas's Jazz Lounge. Same twinkling chandeliers, same classy wood paneling, same ring of booths.

"Ah, Edward."

Ed screwed his eyes shut and sucked in a long breath. He held it for a moment, and then let it whoosh out, before turning and staring at the booth directly to his left.

"Roy."

Because of course, of _course_ , it was Roy fucking Mustang sitting there, dark hair slicked back and donning his usual pinstriped three-piece. Of course the charming, generous guy who had fucked the breath out of him was the one he was indebted to, without the cash to pay up. Because when could Edward fucking Elric ever have _anything_ nice in the world.

He had his chin propped on the back on his left hand, the other loosely holding a crystal glass of brandy. Ed grimaced and cautiously made his way over to sit. Roy said nothing, only lowered his eyes to stare at his glass as Ed made himself comfortable.

"So. Here I am. What do you want?"

Better to just pretend this was their first time meeting, because it made Ed feel less like beating his head against a brick wall.

"No pleasantries, I suppose?" Roy's lips curled into a smile, but it was empty and Ed hated it.

"Fuck you. I'm missing dinner with my brother for this, what the _hell_ do you want?" He snapped, far, _far_ beyond any fucking _pleasantries_.

Fucking Roy and his fucking complicated-ass vocabulary.

_Fuck._

"Straight to the point then." Roy tipped up his glass and took a long sip. "As I'm sure you're aware, you've borrowed a bit of money from us."

"I'm Xerxian, not stupid. Don't start with that shit," Ed snapped. Roy glanced up at him, pushing away his glass and crossing his arms on the table.

"Fine. Simply put, I need the money back within the week."

"Well, guess I'm fucked then, aren't I?" Roy's lips pursed, and Ed grinned humorlessly. Already, the man looked tired of dealing with him, and Ed felt a bitter sort of pride at that. Not like anyone really liked putting up with him in the first place. And besides, he couldn't make good on his end of the deal, so he expected a good deal of hurt in his future.

"Not exactly."

That...what?

"What do you mean?"

Roy took another sip of his drink, and this time drained it.

"Somehow, by complete coincidence, you've been paying my group small favors for a while," he said. "Griselma is an informant of mine, and that woman you took a bottle to the head for was a one of Madam Christmas's girls."

Ed blinked. This was beginning to feel more and more like a fever dream.

"In light of these, I'm inclined to give you a little leeway with this." Ed leaned back, fingers tapping on the table.

"The fuck does leeway mean?" He snapped. Roy's eyebrows lifted a little.

"Slack. Reprieve," he offered. Ed knew one of those, and was angry at the trickle of relief wheedling its way down his spine.

"What kind of leeway?"

"Work for me."

Ed's eyes widened. It felt like something had shattered, but this time there were no starlight eyes to pick up the pieces. Only black ice and silk-gloved hands that wouldn't bother with the mess.

"Work for _you?_ " Ed blurted. "For some shady organization I know nothing about? In a city I know nothing about? This could ruin my _life--”_

“And you seem to forget that I could as well,” Roy cut it, voice rising slightly. Ed slumped in his chair, saying nothing as he glared at Roy and pondered his options.

Whatever he chose, he knew his carefully laid out plans were washing away, like water down a drain. If he gave Roy the finger, that meant the he _and_ Al would be dealing with whatever punishment he thought fit for this, and Al had worked too hard for Ed to selfishly fuck it all up. If he gave in and worked for them, who knew what they would be having him do and how deeply it would stain his future.

Either way, he was screwed. Completely and utterly screwed.

Ed sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, resigned.

“One condition,” he said, glancing up. Roy raised an eyebrow, despite the fact that both of them knew that Ed was in no position to be demanding conditions.

“Keep Alphonse out of this. These are my problems, and he has enough to worry about as it is,” he said. Roy seemed to consider it for a moment, before (to Ed’s utter surprise) he nodded.

“You have my word.”

Ed let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“Good. Fine. Guess I work for you now,” he muttered, the relief short winded, quickly replaced by a bitter taste in the back of his throat. Roy sat back, looking strangely neutral about gaining a new lackey.

“Fine. You can go home, I’ll send someone to get you tomorrow when you’re needed,” he said, picking up his glass and staring at it, as if wishing it held more than just droplets.

“Needed for what?”

“You’re good at chemistry, right?” He raised an eyebrow. Ed muttered a curse under his breath, rolled his eyes and pushed himself up from the booth.

“Of course, what else would you guys be doing?” He mumbled and he turned to head back through the curtained doorway. He stopped suddenly, a thought occurring to him.

“One more thing,” Ed said, making Roy’s head jerk up. Ed scowled over his shoulder. “I’ll be pissed if this gets in the way of my classes.”

For some reason, that made Roy smirk.

“You’re pushing it, Elric,” he said.

“Good.”

Ed turned and threw the curtain back, marching back down the hall. Damiano had found a seat next to the redheaded man and they were talking quietly when Ed approached. Damiano glanced up, raising an eyebrow.

“Oof, you don’t look too happy, friend,” he said, grinned crookedly. Ed pursed his lips, glaring with all the resentment he could muster.

“Just let me go home.”

* * *

 

A single light was still on when he walked back into his apartment, and Alphonse was sitting on the couch, his hands curled around a mug of tea. His head immediately jerked up when the door swung open, but he didn’t move to get up.

 _“Everything okay?”_ He asked. Edward feigned a yawn and tossed his keys and jacket down on the coffee table.

 _“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be? I just talked about getting an extension on paying back the loan, that’s all,”_ he said. He bent down and swiped the mug from Al’s finger and stole a long drink from it, and then made a face.

 _“Why do you always put milk in your tea?”_ He complained. Some of the stress faded from Al’s face and he sighed as he pushed himself off the couch.

 _“Because it’s good, Edward, it’s not my fault you have defective taste buds.”_ Al said. Ed passed the mug back to Al who finished it off and put it in the sink. Both brothers headed to the small bedroom to get ready, and for a moment it felt like everything could go back to normal. They’d wake up, go to school, work, come home, study, sleep, and start it all over again.

Ed sighed as he pulled the blanket up to his nose.

He missed the routine already.


End file.
